Standing in a Circle of Quiet
by dumbledorefan07
Summary: Ginny Weasley is a charm breaker for Gringotts. She's been around the world, but now the bank has called her for the 10-year vault check. When she returns, there are secrets she can't escape, truths waiting to be discovered & a past in need of redemption.
1. Waiting for the World to Turn

**Author's note: I posted this earlier, asking for reviews, but only got one. I added the rest of what I was planning for this chapter and hope you guys will review, because it's always encouraging to know someone is reading your work, whether you like it or not. I also changed the summary, because it wasn't very good at all.**

**P.S. Since I was inspired by songs, this will be a 'songfic.' I'm not even sure what that means, I'm just going to italicize the parts of the song that inspired a particular part of the story.**

* * *

_Here I am, standing in a circle of quiet  
Where a truce is tacitly observed  
Standing in a circle of quiet  
Waiting for the world to turn  
Waiting for the world to turn_

A ripple of lightening exploded across the indigo sky and the ground under a rain-drenched black leather boot vibrated as thunder reverberated off the low hills. A tall, slender figure stood gazing across a nearly flooded lawn at a house that was emitting a warm glow barely visible in the downpour. The figure stood perfectly still for a moment longer, dark eyes gently squinted against the freezing raindrops, before moving. A chilling gust of wind cut through the torrential rain and the figure shivered slightly.

If someone had glanced from the steamed windows of the house, had dared turn away from the warmth of the fire and peered out into the violent storm, they would not have noticed the cloaked figure hesitate at the gate, lifting an arm to slide a wand back inside sopping wet robes.

Any inhabitants of the house would not have been able to discern the squish of boots as the figure strode purposefully towards the house. They would not have seen the figure slow as the front door came into view. They would not have seen the hand push sodden hair out of a shadowed face or the pearly white lips that had revealed the ghost of a grin.

But no one glanced outside; they were not expecting visitors until the next evening.

Standing, at last, in front of the crumbling porch, the figure closed their eyes, taking in the sound of the rain, a rain that was pounding the earth so mercilessly all other noises were eliminated. Another sudden clap of thunder concealed the hammering of a heart.

With one last deep breath, the figure stepped forward, up the three small steps into the dryness of the porch, gave the faded red door two quick raps, seized the knob and pushed the door open.

Ginny Weasley was home.

* * *

He was sitting perfectly still as a crisp breeze twirled the hem of his cloak. His dark eyes shifted as he registered movement. He scooted his chair back and stood gracefully, lifting a black-gloved hand to smooth his robes. He closed his eyes for a flicker of a moment, listening to the low whisper of conversation that had broken out. He heard a loud clap of thunder somewhere far above the dungeon room as he gazed at the other masked figures, some of which were disappearing with quiet _pops._

With a nod to the person beside him, he turned and walked to the nearest fireplace, deftly gripping a fistful of powder and tossing it into the flames. He waited for the color to change, clearly spoke his destination and relaxed slightly as he felt the flames warm his frigid body.

An angry flare of lightening illuminated the spacious room as he stepped from the flames.He peeled the gloves from his hands and tucked them in his trouser pocket. A deafening rumble of thunder resonated through the room as he tugged the mask up over his head. He studied it for a moment, once he was free of it. He felt a strange twinge low in his gut. His eyes roamed over the stiff black material and he beckoned the soothing numbness.

The room was splashed in light once again and he roughly folded the mask into an inside pocket of his robes. He glanced up at the enormous floor to ceiling windows and his footsteps echoed lightly as he made his way across the room to peer out into the storm. As he stepped closer to the glass he could feel the temperature drop suddenly and he knew the rain must have been freezing. He watched the rain pound the ground, observing how little puddles were filling the yard.

He raised his hand slowly, until it was level with his face, and let it rest against the rain-streaked glass. The shocking cold was calming and steam was fogging the glass around his formerly warm hand. He thought fleetingly of jerking the window open and stepping outside to let the rain wash over him. He could almost feel the cold burn of the rain, the way the wind would slash through his cloak, and his skin tingled.

_Standing in a circle of quiet  
Waiting for the world to turn  
Waiting for the world to turn_

He let his hand drop from the glass and turned.

Draco Malfoy had work to do.

* * *


	2. Round Midnight

**A/N: I know my last chapter was realllly short, but one review? Come on! This chapter is MUCH longer, and I hate to beg, but please, please, PLEASE, read and review. I'm loving the story, but maybe that's because I know where it's going. I need some feedback asap so I know if it's even worth continuing. Thanks! **

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

_Memories always start after sundown…_

The sun has just slipped behind the leaning white marble building as she glanced over her shoulder. The empty streets of Diagon Alley seemed strangely imposing in the twilight and she fumbled for the tiny key in her pocket. She slipped it into the concealed lock in the upper left-hand corner of the first set of doors and stepped back as they swiftly opened. With another quick evaluation of the street behind her she noted it was deserted and stepped inside.

At the second set of doors, she was greeted by the night goblin who recognized her at once. He bowed slightly then held up his wand and she understood. Recognized or not, Gringotts wasn't one of the safest places in the wizarding world for nothing. She held her wand to him and he scanned it quickly. She kneeled and watched as he passed the tip of his wand in front of her eyes. Satisfied that she had been properly identified he turned to the locked door behind him.

"You're in very late, Ms. Weasley," he said. She nodded as he slipped his thumbnail into the lock and the door opened a crack. "I thought Mr. Weasley and yourself weren't due in until tomorrow morning?"

"We aren't," she stated simply, pushing though the door. "But we received the general assignment papers weeks ago. Would it be alright if I went ahead and got started on some of the lower security vaults tonight?"

"I see no reason why not. I don't need to warn you about staying alert, miss, do I?" His mouth twisted in an odd sort of way and she supposed it must have been a smile.

"No, of course not," she replied, and added as she turned, "Thank you, Ersted. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, ma'am," he said, pulling the door closed behind her.

She looked around the enormous entry room and again noted how peculiar a familiar place could feel when entirely abandoned. The marble floors were gleaming in the firelight from the torches spaced periodically around the room and her high-heeled boots were echoing softly.

At the end of the hall, she strode to a small wood-paneled door on the right that was partially hidden behind a large tapestry. Once inside the makeshift office she shared with Bill whenever they were at the bank, she began shuffling through the parchment lying haphazardly around her desk. She stopped and smiled when she caught sight of Bill waving at her from the corner of his desk across the room. She turned and walked the few steps to pick the frame up, smiling as she saw herself staring admiringly up at her eldest brother, Fleur on his other side doing much the same.

The photo had been taken mere months after the final battle when she, Bill and Fleur had had a rather long talk. Fleur had voiced her desire to go away for a while, (she had lost a cousin and an uncle in the war), and Ginny could not agree more. The death of Percy was still a subject never broached in the Weasley household. After Harry's defeat of Voldemort things were as close to normal as ever, but still Molly Weasley had been reluctant to let her youngest child move out of the house, let alone go off to Egypt to become a Gringotts charm-breaker. But Ginny had been relentless and with encouragement and promises of her safety from Bill and Fleur, Molly had conceded.

Ginny had trained for several months, eventually moving into an apartment of her own. It was a little more than a year later that she and Bill joined the traveling team and started out on what Ginny was sure would be her greatest adventure. She had traveled to countless countries and whenever she was back at the Burrow for holidays she supposed she must have acquired that "cool" look of Bill's, because Fred and Georges' children were always asking her to recount her adventures and gazing appreciatively at her dragon hide cloak.

She thought of her family then, as she gently placed the photo back onto Bill's cluttered desk. She had been home nearly a week, but it wasn't until the second night that she noticed the candle her mother left burning in the window.

She thought of Percy then, the sinister darkness of the office only fueling her reflections. She wondered what his children might have looked like. What sort of pretentious names only he could have come up with. Her chest constricted and she sighed. She had to clear her mind, or else waste away of sleep deprivation.

She took another look at the vault chart and headed for the door. She found an empty cart and headed off in the direction of vaults that hadn't been checked in nearly 10-years, hoping she wouldn't find the remains of some poor, greedy soul.

_It begins to tell 'round midnight, 'round midnight _

_I do pretty well till after sundown _

_Suppertime, I'm feeling sad _

_But it really gets bad 'round midnight _

_Memories always start 'round midnight, 'round midnight _

_Haven't got the heart to stand those memories_

It must have been four or five hours later before she started to feel the tired ache that would ease her to sleep. Years ago, when she was first starting, she hadn't realized how taxing it could be, checking to verify charms were holding, applying new ones and weeding out the unnecessary. She had just tested the security measures on her sixth vault, (quite impressive for someone working alone, in her opinion), and was stretching, leaning so far back that her shoulders were nearly parallel with the ground when she heard it.

She stood upright at once, reaching for her wand while her senses were straining to focus on the foreign sounds. She was standing at the far end of a long corridor off one of the main vault chambers; her eyes closed lightly as she listened intently to a distant hum that sounded almost like the rustling of wings.

She jerked her head slightly to the right when she recognized it was whispering, not wings, and found the noise was coming from somewhere around the far end of the corridor. She leveled her wand in front of her and walked quietly to the where she had left her cart on the main tracks and peered around the corner.

When her eyes focused she saw two shadowed figures whispering at the other end of the long chamber. It was too dark and too quiet to make out anything of importance. She thought briefly of apparating, but knew the sound would alert them of her presence. She cast a non-verbal silencing spell on her heels and walked as quickly as she could while staying in the shadows of the wall.

She was just close enough to discern that the figures were too tall and broad to be women or goblins before one of them abruptly stopped whispering and disapparated on the spot. Before the second had time to disappear as well, she leapt from the shadows and a silent "Expelliarmus!" landed the figure several feet in front of her, sprawled on his back. Her left hand snapped up to grab the wand that was soaring towards her and before the man had time to regain his breath she was bearing down on him, her boot on his throat and both wands pointed at his face. His hood must have slipped forward when she hit him with the spell, because his forehead and eyes were hidden from view.

"What business do you have here?" she spoke in an authoritative whisper, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

The man said nothing, only struggled and brought his hands up to try and pull her foot away.

"I _said,_" she demanded, pushing her foot just a little harder into his neck, "what business do you have here?"

He had stopped struggling, but was still unable to answer. She moved her wand down to push the hem of his hood up and gasped quietly when the rest of his head was revealed.

"Malfoy?" she asked incredulously. She pulled her foot back but still kept both wands trained on him while he rubbed his neck and slowly got to his feet.

"Well if you are so certain as to my identity, I wonder if you would not allow me my wand back so I may access _my _vault," he snapped, straightening his robes.

She stared at him blankly, confusion muddling her thoughts, and then smirked as she noticed the small red circle on his neck where her heel had dug into his porcelain skin. She smirked even more when he rubbed it gingerly.

He had not yet looked at her.

"Pardon me," she said in her most professional tone. "Regular banking hours resume tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. until then, I must escort you out. Only authorized employees are permitted inside at this hour."

"Excuse me?" he said incredulously, finally turning to glare at her.

She smiled sweetly as his eyes grew, the recognition and shock clearly discernable on his pale face.

"Weasley?" he gaped. "How did you get in here?" he looked wildly around. Then, "Are you robbing the place?

"No, you moron, I'm not robbing anyone. You always were top notch in the logic department, Malfoy," she replied matter-of-factly. "As it is, I am an employee at Gringotts and should very well be asking you what you are doing here, lurking about at midnight."

She folded her arms, transferred both wands to her right hand and noted how quickly he had recovered from his shock. In a moment he had returned to his previous affronted attitude.

"As the owner of one of the highest security and most prominent vaults at Gringotts, one with a private entrance, mind you, I believe I am _well_ within my rights to be inside the bank at this hour," he snarled.

She mentally cringed at his words. How could she have forgotten about the private entrances?

"Now hand my wand over," he commanded, holding out his palm. "And be assured the proper superior will hear about this."

He smirked then and his eyes were sparkling with malevolence.

She glared at him and thrust his wand into his outstretched hand.

"It's so nice to see some people never change," she added curtly.

"What is that supposed to mean, Weasley?" he asked tersely, stowing his wand safely inside his robes.

"Some people just never grow out of being the insufferable prats I remember so well," she said, her calm voice revealing indifference instead of the rage she felt slowly building.

"Yes, and Weasley's seem to be just as _I _remember. Ever rude and pathetic, not to mention appalling disgraces to the wizarding world," he leered. "Only now it seems they've added attacking people from behind to that lovely list of desirable traits."

She was seething, but refused to let her facial expressions betray her. She only nodded slightly and turned as to walk away.

"How did you land a job so far above the usual Weasley standard anyway?" he asked. "Not from that scar-face brother of yours, surely?"

For a split second she thought she had passed out. It felt as though the ground had disappeared and she was free falling, her head spinning faster than a new racing broom.

Rarely did Ginny lose her temper, but when she turned back around to face him her hands were clenched so tightly her finger nails were digging into her palm and tiny red sparks were shooting from the tip of the wand she still held in her hand.

"Don't you ever speak of my brother again," she whispered quietly, punctuating each word with a jab of her wand in his face. She didn't remember when she had marched up to him. "It's your fault his face is scarred. Your fault and no one else's."

He opened his mouth to protest, or perhaps gloat about his victory, but the tip of her wand under his chin silenced him instantly.

"No, I do not care that the ministry cleared you of charges. I do not care who the anonymous person was that testified in your defense. It could have been Harry bloody Potter for all I care," she explained, glaring at him. "You are the one who let your death eater friends into the school. You are the one who let that, that, _thing, _Fenrir Greyback, maul him. So don't speak about things you cannot possibly understand."

She stared into his eyes for a moment more, hoping to convey her seriousness in the matter, then stepped back.

"Goodnight, Mr. Malfoy," she said, finally lowering her wand and turning. "Gringotts thanks your for your business."

She had disappeared into the darkness before he found his voice.

_

* * *

_

_Haven't got the heart to stand those memories._

* * *

**So, thoughts? Suggestions? Please?**


	3. After Hours

**A/N: I realize I'm posting this the day before the last book comes out. Regardless of what happens in Deathly Hallows, this story will be completed, and it's highly unlikely that I will change the plot, as I've already got the majority of it outlined.**

**So, I'm crossing my fingers that I'm not devastated after reading DH and too depressed to write….Anyone else feeling bittersweet about it being the end? It was nearly 10 years ago that I first picked up Sorcerer's Stone….**

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

_I tell myself_

_Looks can be deceiving_

_But I'm hoping that I'm not dead right_

* * *

It was mid-March and the rain that streaked his office window was bitter cold. He glanced up, listening to the rain now that his scratching quill was silent. The sky was a dim gray and although it was just lunchtime, it looked almost like dusk. He sighed quietly and with a flourish signed his name at the bottom of the parchment he had been poring over. He added it to the stack of the days completed work and looked up casually as he heard a curt tap on his door. 

"Yes?" he drawled, and his assistant slipped her upper body inside the office.

"A Mister Scrutch is here to see you," she said timidly. "He said you owled him earlier."

"Yes, that's right. Send him in, please." She nodded again. "Thank you Karin."

She disappeared behind the door and he busied himself rearranging the files on his desk while he waited. A moment later there was another brisk knock and a short, thin, balding man appeared. He was wearing a long black cloak and a black plaid fedora.

"Have a seat, Mr. Scrutch," Malfoy said, indicating the leather chairs in front of his enormous black walnut desk.

"Thank you, sir," the man replied, taking a seat and letting his leather briefcase rest on his lap. "How may I be of service?"

"In many ways, but first, I must make it exceedingly clear that I require the utmost discretion," Malfoy said meaningfully. He hesitated, carefully watching the reaction of the man.

"Mr. Malfoy, I can assure you everything will be handled with the highest confidentiality," Mr. Scrutch explained. "Considering the prominence of the Malfoy name, I have decided to handle the case personally. My assistant is the only member of my office who is aware of your request. I hope this is satisfactory?"

"It is," Malfoy answered, clearly pleased. "I would like you to find out everything you can about Ginevra Weasley," he said with no preamble.

If Mr. Scrutch was surprised, he hid it well.

"I want to know every move she's made since she graduated Hogwarts," Malfoy continued. "I want to know where she's lived, who she's had lunch with on Tuesday's, what she wears on a romantic date, what time she goes to bed and what she does on her days off. Am I clear?"

Mr. Scrutch nodded, took out a sheet of parchment and made a few notes.

"That shouldn't be a problem, sir," Mr. Scrutch said.

"Excellent," Malfoy replied, standing. "I shall expect a preliminary report next week. You may discuss your payment requirements with my secretary, Karin. You will receive half now and half when I have my complete report."

"Thank you, sir," Mr. Scrutch answered, closing his briefcase and following Malfoy to the door. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"Yes, a pleasure," he said, opening the door. "Good day."

"Good day."

Malfoy strode back to his desk and settled himself in the high-backed leather chair. He clasped his hand together on his desk and gave the window a fleeting look, absorbed in his thoughts.

To say he was intrigued by the events of the previous night was a vast understatement. He had not given the youngest Weasley a passing thought since their days at Hogwarts. But now, well, now he was giving her quite a lot of thought.

A smirk lit his face as he rubbed the small circular bruise on his neck. An image from the night before replayed in his mind's eye. He had been shaken by the unexpected attack, and then somewhat intrigued to find that the black, leather, stiletto boot belonged to little Ginevra Weasley.

He still wasn't sure how she had managed to afford the dragon-hide cloak and he wondered vaguely why a Gryffindor would feel compelled to wear all black. Not that her garments were all that nice looking, he thought, sneering. Maybe on another witch the bodice and long-sleeved black undershirt might have looked appealing. But on Weasley all it did was make her skin appear too flawlessly fair and her hair too much like the flames of a crackling fire.

He shook the image from his head and glimpsed at the window before picking up his quill again.

The rain was coming down harder than ever.

* * *

She was curious, that at least she could admit to herself, grinning grimly as she stepped from the flames and into the Leaky Cauldron. She settled herself into a corner booth and got lost in her thoughts as she waited for her lunch date. 

Now that she had wrestled her temper back into its place, she could think properly about the previous weeks events and Draco Malfoy was certainly a lot to think about. In hindsight, she knew she shouldn't have lost her head over that comment about her brother. It _was_ Malfoy, after all, and although he had undoubtedly grown older, she wasn't quite sure he'd ever be mature or civil about some things.

She hadn't given him a thought since Hogwarts, but she was confident he had not been that tall. And, if her memory served her correctly, his face had been much pointier back then, his shoulders not nearly so broad and she could have sworn he had always worn his hair slicked back, not shoulder-length and swept into a ponytail.

"Hullo Gin," a voice called, interrupting her thoughts.

She glanced up and saw a familiar set of green eyes.

"Hullo Harry," she stood and drew him into a hug. "Oh, and you brought Hermione," she breathed, breaking away from him to pull Hermione to her.

"We've missed you Ginny," Hermione said happily, hugging Ginny tightly.

"I've missed you both as well," she replied, sliding back into the booth and watching as Harry and Hermione sat across from her. She smiled as Harry slinked an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "So what's new around here?"

They fell into an easy conversation, seemingly transported back to their younger days. She glimpsed the fire in the corner of the pub and could have almost mistaken it for the Gryffindor common room.

Ginny relaxed as Herminone filled her in about what the old gang had been up to, knowing Ginny kept in touch with very few, with the exception of Neville Longbottom. Neville's was a friendship Ginny cherished just as much as Harry's and Hermione's.

She was shocked to discover Ron and Luna had recently been seeing quite a lot of each other and made a mental note to give her brother a harsh scolding for neglecting to share such an interesting piece of information. She laughed as Hermione told her how the last time Fred's twin girls had visited, they had swapped Hermione's shampoo with Madam Burgeon's Quick-Grow Ivy Wash and Herminone's hair had been dragging 10 meters behind her before she found the counter-curse.

Ginny took a swig of butterbeer and smiled as Harry launched into a comical story about how Hermione had rearranged his entire apartment before moving in after they had finished Auror training. She relaxed against the booth and realized how contented she felt, something the Burrow no longer offered. It troubled her to see her home overwhelmed with a grief so intense it felt improper to laugh. But she knew time would heal the old wounds and eventually things would have to return to some form of normalcy. She could already sense that her father was tiring of the lingering grief and she hoped he would help her mother heal.

"So how does it feel to be home for more than a couple days?" Hermione asked, bringing her out of her reverie.

"Strange," she started, struggling for the proper words. "Strange, but good," she finished, smiling. "You know, it's great to travel. It's been an incredible experience, meeting people from all sorts of different cultures. But home is truly wonderful, too. And I've found there really isn't another place in the world quite like it."

Hermione grinned and raised her bottle in a toast. "Beautifully said, Ginny."

"Thank you," she laughed.

"So have you run across anything interesting down in the Gringotts vaults yet?" Harry asked.

"Well, actually, I have," she answered carefully.

"Really? I've heard that if someone tries to break into some of the high security vaults they get sucked inside," Hermione inquired. "I think it's dreadfully cruel, personally. Take house elves for insta-"

"What did you find Ginny?" Harry interrupted. Hermione looked put out for a moment, but quickly turned her attention back to Ginny.

"More of a 'whom' than a 'what.'"

Harry was staring at her curiously and Hermione had raised her eyebrows questioningly.

"I went in last week, before Bill and I officially got underway," she explained. "Wanted to get an early start, reacquaint myself with the building, you know. And I ran into Draco Malfoy down around some of the lower security vaults. It must have been around midnight."

Hermione looked shocked and waited for Ginny to continue.

"I heard whispering and saw two men talking, but before I could get close enough to hear what they were saying one of them disapparated." Harry appeared startled and mildly interested, but would not meet her gaze. "I didn't know the other man was Malfoy until after I disarmed him. He wasn't too pleased about having a Weasley put him on his back," she finished, smirking.

"What would Malfoy be doing in Gringotts that late, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"I'm not sure," Harry explained. "Aurors stopped tailing him ages ago and I haven't heard a peep about him since the end of the war."

"I don't trust him," Ginny stated frankly. "He may be older, but it was the same foul git from Hogwarts that I saw the other night. He was still snobbish and insulting Weasley's at every opportunity. Just because he was never convicted of anything doesn't make him less of a death eater."

Ginny was surprised to note that Harry looked rather disappointed at her last statement.

"No, Ginny, it means everything," he said harshly. "He was cleared of all charges, and although he may not be entirely innocent, he may not be entirely guilty either."

She opened her mouth to argue, but Harry raised his hand.

"Listen, things aren't always black and white, Gin. People are not always what they seem. I had to learn that the hard way," he said, and Ginny knew he was talking about Snape's surprising loyalty to the Order in the final battle. "Just don't judge people without knowing the full story. Appearances can be deceiving."

He looked at her meaningfully, but she was too baffled to say anything else on the matter. Tom came by just then to drop off their check and Ginny did not have time to mention Malfoy in the flurry of hugs and promises of getting together again soon.

As she walked back towards Gringotts though, she could not help but wonder what the whole story might include that would have Harry Potter so easily come to Draco Malfoy's defense.

* * *

It was late afternoon at Gringotts and Ginny Weasley was frustrated, to say the least. 

After lunch with Harry and Hermione she had let her curiosity get the better of her. She hadn't been able to focus on anything, and after having to re-write a vault report three times, she decided it was pointless to continue until she satisfied at least a few of her nagging questions.

It was amazingly easy to obtain a summary of Malfoy's recent account history. Now she was carefully evaluating the long list of his transactions within the past year, and it bothered her immensely to find nothing out of the ordinary.

_Well, nothing out of the ordinary for such a nauseatingly rich wizard_, she thought, an ugly look on her face.

There were several donations to the Ministry of Magic.

"Of course," she mumbled grumpily. "Like father, like son."

Several lines down she noticed a couple donations to the Auror Department, usually every three months. She touched her finger to the line to hold her place and looked up, thinking.

Distractedly, she noticed a light drizzle of rain splash against the dusty upstairs office window. She wasn't entirely sure why Malfoy would donate specifically to the Auror Department, but then she supposed he had to support the Ministry officials responsible for protecting him from his old death eater friends. Yes, that seemed a perfectly reasonable thing for someone like Malfoy to do.

She gave the file another one-over, and was just about to close it and head home when a tiny script at the very bottom edge caught her attention. She held the parchment closer to her face, squinting to make out what it said, and was startled to see a modest investment with a business in Turkmenistan. She frowned.

_Turkmenistan? What could he possibly be up to in Turkmenistan? _She pondered this as she slipped the file back into a large cabinet and crept slowly back to her office.

She knew from her travels that wizarding Turkmenistan was a haven for all sort of nefarious peoples and creatures. Last she had heard, the Ministry was searching for renegade British death eaters there, which certainly made for interesting contemplations, considering Malfoy had sent money to a company in the country.

She was still quite lost in reflection as she said goodbye to Bill, promised to see him at dinner and gathered her things. Her thoughts consumed her even as she stepped out into the fading light of the day and felt the cold sting of rain. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and dashed down the steps, disappearing into the evening crowd.

She never noticed the man watching her from the shadows on the other side of the alley.

* * *

_Watching everybody leaving_

_I tell myself_

_Looks can be deceiving_

Malfoy had been standing in the same position for half an hour, his silhouette barely moving, when he finally saw a flash of scarlet.

He looked up then, his eyes focusing on her. She seemed startled for an instant, squinting up at the sky and blinking as the rain fell lightly on her pale face. He was aware of how starkly her black-clad body and flaming red hair stood out against the white marble of Gringotts. She pulled her hood up swiftly and moved into the crowd before he could decide if he would follow her or not. He watched her disappearing figure move through the crowd, feeling odd as he watched several wizards openly admire her before shifting to clear her path.

_I guess that your parents must have raised themselves_

_A strictly pious daughter because you_

_Move through this crowd just like parting water_

_You dress so nice_

_You dress to kill_

_They drop like flies_

_But who's the funeral for?_

He glanced at a large clock on the far end of the street. It was nearly 5 p.m., and he made a mental note that this part of the report was accurate. He had received a preliminary report on Weasley first thing that morning and was eager to verify some of its contents for himself.

He pulled a scrap of parchment from his pocket and read the address he had scrawled there before leaving his office. He turned on the spot and in seconds found himself looking out from a cluster of trees at a ramshackle house. He was just double-checking the address when a small _pop_ announced the apparation of another.

He smiled wickedly when he looked up and saw the sleek black outline of her figure entering the house through a cluster of old boots and chickens.

In another instant he was gone.

* * *

_Oh I know it's not hard_

_To get in trouble_

_After hours_

* * *

**Not to be pushy or anything, but the frequency of the next chapter will directly relate to the number of reviewers. Hope everyone enjoys Deathly Hallows. Go to a midnight release party, dress like your favorite character and live it up! This is the last time we'll ever get to do anything like this again!**


	4. Dust My Lemon Lies

**A/N: I still haven't finished Deathly Hallows yet, although the more I read, the more difficult I find it is to close the book and pause the ever plot-thickening story. I'm a little more than 2/3 into it and it is by far the best and most exciting adventure I have yet encountered in the books. I have 10 times more questions than before I opened the first chapter and cannot wait to have them answered, so please, _no spoilers_ in the reviews. Also, I have the distinct feeling that the events in this fanfiction will soon be under the category of "Alternative Universe…."**

**Alas, I hope you rather enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

Chapter 4 - "Dust My Lemon Lies"

* * *

_Dust my lemon lies_

_With powder pink and sweet_

_The day I stop_

_Is the day you change_

_And fly away from me_

* * *

If the old adage, "April showers bring may flowers" had any merit to it, the whole country would be one large, fragrant flower by the time May rolled around. 

Ginny had been home exactly one month and in that time she had seen exactly one sunny day. She wasn't even sure if that sunny day counted, as it had stormed again at sundown.

It had even rained two days earlier at Fred and George's birthday party, she recalled, remembering the havoc the rain had caused the twins' supply of wet-start fireworks.

"My, my, Ms. Weasley," a voice to her right whispered. "Hiding in a corner with a mischievous smile like that could give Fred and George a run for their money."

"Better not let them hear you say that, Neville," she laughed, turning to face him.

He laughed and hugged her to him.

"It's good to have you home, Gin," he said.

"Goodness, what is it with you people and hugging?" she chuckled, pulling away and smacking him on the arm playfully. "You act as if you haven't seen me in years when I was just here yesterday."

"But before then it _had_ been years," he answered. "Anyway, let's talk about something cheerful. Like the amazing crowd your work has generated in my gallery," he said, gesturing to the elegantly dressed witches and wizards mingling around them.

"Oh, yes, well, don't say that too loud" she mumbled, blushing modestly.

"If there's one thing I've missed nearly as much as you, it's your art," he declared, chortling quietly as she blushed furiously.

"You always were supportive," she told him, trying to change the subject from her and calm her burning face. "If I recall it right, wasn't it you who bought me my first set of paints and canvas?"

"Yes, well you were always doodling all over my school books and I was tired of seeing it all in black and white," he laughed. "And a bloody brilliant idea it was, if I may say so. None of the artists' work I showcase garners as much attention as yours. Not even mine"

"Thank you, Neville."

"You're welcome," he replied, stopping a passing waiter and grabbing them both a flute of champagne. "To having old friends home again," he smiled, raising his glass to her and taking a sip. "I've got to go make the rounds," he explained. "And it would serve you well to stop sulking in the corner, too."

She laughed then, a light tinkling sound that made him smile. "Thanks, but you know how I like to hide out and observe how people react."

"I know," he said, turning. "Have fun."

She nodded and watched him recede into the crowd, stopping to shake hands and easily engaging himself in random conversations. She could hardly remember the clumsy boy he had been during his first few Hogwarts years.

She turned then, and moved deeper into the shadows towards where most of her paintings were hanging. For this showing she had donated five paintings: two were of the Romanian landscapes that she loved so much; one was a country-looking painting of a rickety old porch with rubber boots scattered around; one was an abstract done in subdued gold and crimson that looked as if two people were about to kiss; and the last, her favorite, was the dragon Charlie had been looking after the last time she had visited him. It was a fierce-looking Welsh Green with brilliants shades of emerald and silver.

She was sipping her champagne lightly when she noticed a man had moved in front of the dragon painting. She shifted closer and nearly chocked when she caught a glimmer of white-blond hair.

Once over the shock of seeing Malfoy so suddenly, she eased back into the shadows and observed him suspiciously. He was alone, dressed impeccably with one hand dipped casually in his trouser pocket and a glass of champagne in the other.

Again, she was reminded strongly that many years had passed since their school days, and if not for the white hair and smirking grin, she might not have recognized him. His face looked worn in the gallery lighting and this stirred much confusion on her behalf.

_What would a spoiled, rich, prat of a man have to fuss about to make him look so weary?_ she pondered, letting her eyes rake over the minuscule lines just visible at the corners of his eyes. When her gaze fell upon his eyes, she started; he was looking at her painting with such tenderness, such delicate understanding that she wondered what Hagrid-like quality he must possess to look at a dragon so fondly.

"He wants to buy it, you know."

She jumped and nearly dropped her glass when Neville's voice spoke close to her ear.

"Neville!" she whispered fiercely. "You can't keep doing that!

"Sorry," he said sheepishly and allowed her to tug him down the wall, away from Malfoy.

"I'm sorry, but I thought I heard you say Malfoy wanted to buy one of my paintings?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes, he spoke to me earlier. Said he loved the dragon one," Neville elaborated. "Asked me who the artist was."

"You didn't?!"

"No! Of course not, Ginny," he hurriedly explained. "I told him the artist wished to remain anonymous." Here he hesitated. "I also told him that although none of the current paintings from this particular artist are for sale, I have a lovely selection of landscapes in the smaller gallery upstairs."

She didn't miss the disappointed look Neville was trying to keep from his face. She usually let Neville sell the paintings, but never accepted the money, always donating it to the gallery or St. Mungo's. She hadn't planned on selling any of the current collection and was personally thinking of giving the dragon painting to Charlie for his birthday.

Neville, who she knew was saving to open another gallery in Hogsmeade, looked nervous as she contemplated her next move. Her thoughts flicked to the Malfoy file she had found in Gringotts, the large sum total at the bottom corner, nearly running off the side of the parchment, and this prompted her to make an impulsive decision.

"I've changed my mind," she stated, pleased that Neville's eyes had lit up. She could always do another dragon painting for Charlie; his birthday was months away.

"Tell him you've just flooed the artist who has agreed to sell, since _Lord Malfoy_," she emphasized, unable to hide the scorn from her voice, "so loved the painting. I'll take no less than 2,000 galleons."

"But Ginny," Neville started, "2,000 galleons is an awful lot…"

"Oh, he can afford it, Neville, trust me. I've seen his Gringotts file," she said ruefully. "Think nothing of it."

He looked skeptic.

"I'll donate half to the gallery –"

"Ginny, you can't give me that much money," he interrupted.

"Yes, I can. I would love to see you open another gallery," she said, smiling up at him. "Think of it as my way of apologizing for staying away so long."

Neville still looked highly apprehensive, but when he glimpsed the determined look on her face he turned towards Malfoy. Ginny grinned to herself and took this as her cue to wander away into the crowd.

* * *

Malfoy was standing relaxed in front of the painting. He had come to the gallery on a whim, wanting to make a public appearance because he had been secluding himself for weeks and did not wish to freely throw logs into the rumor mill. He had roamed around the room for a while, nodding his head in greeting to the many people he recognized, but his attitude and body language quite obviously emanating his desire to remain alone. 

He had been shocked to stumble across the dragon painting at first; so long had it been since he had seen something in such vibrant Slytherin colors. He studied it then, feeling the cool glass in his hand and tuning out the quiet murmur of voices. He found the painting oddly soothing. He wasn't entirely sure how a vicious-looking dragon could be comforting, but it was.

He knew from overhearing society conversations that Neville was the owner of the gallery and so Draco sought him out at once to purchase the painting. Disappointed and frustrated when he discovered it was not for sale, he found himself drawn back to it anyway. Now he found himself unable to tear his eyes from it, feeling almost mesmerized by the gentle movements of the wizard painting. Unlike usually wizarding portraits, the dragon hardly stirred, occasionally swishing it's tail or sending a stream of sparks from its nose, and Draco had the distinct and peculiar feeling the animal might have been posing, which seemed absurd.

He had just thought that the painting reminded him of something or someone when he looked up to see Neville approaching.

"Mr. Malfoy, I have excellent news…."

Draco was pleased to hear of the artists' change of heart and did not give the price a passing thought. Smirking and quite pleased with the turn of events, he followed Neville into a back office to arrange the details. They both agreed the painting would remain in the gallery for the remainder of the weekend, then it was to be delivered to Malfoy Manor first thing Monday morning.

As he stepped back into the main gallery, noticing the thinning crowd, he caught a glimpse of red and involuntarily jerked towards it.

It was an indication of his shock that he nearly let his mouth go slack and open with surprise. Ginny Weasley was standing in front of the painting Draco Malfoy had just purchased. His first angry thought was of disarming her and planting her on her backside just as she had done him, but as he began to advance towards her, she turned and he stopped dead in his tracks.

She looked softer, somehow, in dark green dress robes. The harsh lines of all black and pointy boots were gone, leaving her looking strangely more beautiful. Her flaming hair, surprisingly, seemed to stand out even more against the green and he was reminded instantly of the crackling, warm fireplaces of Hogwarts and his current home.

She smiled at a passerby and the soft light in the room was doing something wonderful to her face. He held his breath, gazing at the way her eyes were sparkling and how her smile lit her face as though she were standing outside on a sunny day.

_You flicker and you're beautiful_

_You glow inside my head_

_You hold me hyponotized_

_Mesmerized_

A man to his right let out a loud chuckle and Draco started, glancing around as though he had forgotten where he was. He looked back at Weasley and felt revolted with his traitorous thoughts. He strode towards her then, coming up directly behind her and sneering before she even turned around.

"Getting a little out of your league, eh, Weasley," he snarled. "You couldn't afford this painting even if you did indeed steal half of Gringotts."

She turned to face him and he was taken aback that she did not seem at all perturbed by his sudden presence. Instead, she merely studied his face so intently that he felt immense discomfort. He thought fleetingly that she was seeing right into him.

"Mr. Malfoy," she acknowledged, sharply. "I thought we had established that I was not, nor do I ever plan to, steal from my place of employment."

"What are you doing here, anyway?" he retorted, ignoring her previous comment. "It's not as though you could afford to purchase anything. And I'm sure a muggle finger-painting would be fine art compared to what must be in that shack you call 'home'."

"Oh dear, it seems we are still stuck on juvenile remarks about my lack of wealth and my modest home," she pretended to be upset, but he could see the sneaking look in her brown eyes. "It would seem that, although some are practically drowning in their gold, it cannot buy etiquette or kindness." She looked him over then, and he had the distinct feeling she was appraising him, judging him on the spot and finding him unworthy of her time or presence. "We may have lived in what you deem a 'shack,' but my family has loved me in ways you cannot begin to comprehend." Her voice was steady and she had a serene look about her face. "I pity you Malfoy."

And it was this calm statement that had him seething with a rage he hadn't felt in years. _How dare a filthy muggle-lover pity me! A Malfoy! _His thoughts were raging as he fumbled for a biting comeback, but his mouth was not cooperating. He stood opening and closing his lips for several long seconds, once or twice gurgling a "why, the nerve," and "how dare you," but she seemed completely unaffected.

With one last piercing look, she waved goodbye to a bemused Neville who had been observing the encounter quietly, placed her empty glass on a passing waiters tray and slipped quietly to the door.

"Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Malfoy," she called, slipping into the waiting darkness of the alley, a flash of brilliant scarlet hair burning into his eyes.

He sputtered a moment more before composing himself and Disapparating away.

_Hypnotized_

_I'm mesmerized_

_Your flames_

_The flames that kiss me dead_

* * *

**A/N: A friend suggested I include the artist and title of the songs I'm using, so here's an update:**

**Chapter 1 "Standing in a Circle of Quiet" Over the Rhine (You'll see a reoccurance of this song, as it most inspired me, (hence the title of the story) and I only used the chorus in the first chapter. The verses are quite good, too.)**

**Chapter 2 "Round Mignight" Mel Torme**

**Chapter 3 "Afterhours" Phantom Planet**

**Chapter 4 "The Caterpillar" The Cure**

* * *


	5. Hear the Rain Amid the Thunder

**A/N: Finished DH. It was, without doubt, the best book of the series. I won't give anything away for those who are still reading, except that it a wonderful, emotional journey. If I ever got to meet JKR, I would thank her for creating a place, and characters, that have felt like family to me, and for ending things just as spectacularly as they started.**

**Again, this story will continue as I planned and completely disregard the events of Book 7.**

**Enjoy.**

**Also, thanks so much for all the lovely reviews! Please, keep them coming!**

* * *

Chapter 5 "Hear the Rain Amid the Thunder"

* * *

_Maybe you can tell my why I'm prone to wander  
Like a gypsy to the bone  
Every time I hear the rain amid the thunder  
I want to run outside and shed my clothes_

Five weeks. It had been five weeks and already Ginny was aching for a reprieve from the monotony of it all. The routine she had established, the work-home-work schedule, was driving her bonkers and she itched for a quick trip: a distraction from the bank, or some other social event besides a gallery outing. Not that she didn't adore Neville.

It was this mood that prompted her to seek out Harry Potter early Wednesday morning on her day off. Charlie and his team had started checking the dragons last night and the Gringotts team could not proceed until he was finished.

_Raining again? How shocking,_ she thought as she glanced out one of the dusty kitchen windows of the Burrow before grabbing a handful of Floo Powder and heading for the Ministry of Magic.

Finding Harry within the bustling crowds of the Ministry, however, was not quite as simple as she surmised. It was nearly half an hour later before she located him, not in his office in the Auror Department, but striding through the Atrium, apparently just returning from an outing.

"Harry!" she called, hoping to get his attention in the thick morning crowd.

He turned at once and waved her over.

"Alright Harry?" she asked, falling in step with him and heading towards the golden lifts.

"Yes, quite excellent." He leaned closer to whisper as they were crammed into the back of the lift, "I just received a rather intriguing tip about suspected Death Eater activity."

Her eyebrows arched and she could not hide the smile from her face. He grinned as well, and she supposed he had guessed the reason for her sudden appearance at the Ministry.

They stood in silence then, listening to the cool voice calling out the department stops. Excitement pooled in Ginny's stomach as they stepped out at Auror Headquarters.

She waved to a few of her old school friends as she passed along the cluttered corridor.Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Lee Jordon and the Patil twins, among others, were all sitting around Auror desks busying themselves as Harry passed.

"So what do I owe the pleasure?" Harry asked as they entered his cramped office and he closed the door behind her.

"Just wanted to see you?" she smiled innocently, knowing he would see right though the pathetic attempt at nonchalance.

"Sure, sure," he replied, grinning and seating himself behind a desk barely visible under mounds of clutter. "So it has nothing to do with the fact you've been home for nearly 6 weeks and are utterly bored senseless?"

"How -- ? Who --?" she stuttered.

She hadn't expected him to know her true reason for coming, not so promptly anyway.

"I ran into your mother the other day in Diagon Alley. She said you've been pacing around the house like mad the last few days," he told her, and amusement lit his eyes.

"Oh fine! I'm a little bored. So what?" She knew he would not confuse her frustration for anger. "Don't you sit there smirking at me! You're always going off on adventures, hunting rogue Death Eaters, never a dull day, I suspect."

She folded her arms and looked distinctly pouty, slouched in her chair while she waited for his reply.

"You still haven't told me how I'm supposed to help," he said.

"I was there in Romania last summer, Harry, and again last winter in Syria, when we found those bands of rogue Death Eaters," she started, sitting up straighter and leaning towards his desk. "But I've been hearing some very interesting rumors lately. Rumors about more lingering Death Eaters trying to gain a following abroad. I think you might have confirmed something in the lift back there, but I want to know more. I'm still a member of the DA and the Order, you know. I want to help."

Harry considered her a moment and nodded after only a brief hesitation then started searching for a file among the mess covering his desk. Finally, he extracted a dark purple folder and Ginny noted with awe and excitement that it was the thickest folder on the desk.

"Here we are," he said, opening the file and shuffling through some pages. He seemed to have found the page he was looking for, because he smoothed it flat and looked up at Ginny. "You are aware, from our previous missions, that since the final downfall of Voldemort there have been lingering Death Eaters, still, somehow, wishing to carry on his work. It seems Dumbledore was right about nearly everything: evil can never completely be eradicated, just held at bay." He paused to touch his lightening scar lightly. "We've captured nearly all the remaining Death Eaters in Britain, but it appears there are still a few that have spread throughout Europe and they're planning something. We, however, still aren't sure what that is exactly. But we do know they've been meeting quite a lot lately, mostly in Middle Eastern countries and usually always near some Muggle terrorist camp. We think they're trying to throw us off, hiding with the Muggles, but we have some rather excellent sources."

"What about the tip you just received?" she inquired.

"Ah, that. Well, it seems there's going to be a meeting in Azerbaijan tonight. We don't know where exactly, but we suspect it'll be somewhere near the terrorist camp."

He looked at her keenly and she knew he was waiting for her next burning question.

"I know you've probably already assembled a team," she said nervously, "but I'd like to go with you. Could I?"

"I figured you'd want to. I was actually planning on sending you an owl when I got back to the office, but it seems you beat me here," he said, getting to his feet and walking around the front of the desk. "It's just Ron and I going to investigate tonight. No need to bring in an entire team if we're not even sure where the meeting is. We've got an international apparition time set for 8 p.m. tonight, so I'll expect to see you back here before then, right?"

"Wouldn't miss it," she said, allowing him to usher her to the door.

* * *

"Can you believe this? Raining! In the desert!" Ron grumbled as he, Ginny and Harry appeared suddenly in the middle of a vast desert expanse. The lights of a large city were just visible on the horizon. 

Ginny found it just as shocking to feel the cool drops running over her body, but cast a quick spell on herself and the other two to guard against the rain and stop it from soaking their robes.

"Over there," Harry said suddenly. He was not paying attention to the other two, instead he had been scanning the low sand dunes and casting silent spells, searching for traces of magic residue. His wand vibrated gently in his hand as he pointed northwest and Ginny and Ron turned in the direction.

Ron performed the same spell to verify, and when his wand was also gently vibrating they cast disillusionment charms on themselves and set off down the sand dune.

At the bottom, they met an invisible wall of resistance and could go no further.

"They've got some form of shield protection around the place," Ron whispered.

"It's a Concealment Charm," Ginny spoke up. "Stand back, quickly."

Both men complied and Ginny began murmuring a low string of words so quickly and quietly it sounded almost as if she were humming. Then suddenly, a tiny hole appeared in the shield and they could see a makeshift campsite beyond. Ginny was whispering feverishly and soon the hole was big enough for them to step through.

"Well done," Harry whispered as he passed her.

"Yea Ginny," Ron said under his breath and she stepped inside the barrier and the hole sealed up behind them. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

"Ron, _please,_ that was a simple Concealment Charm," she retorted, quietly following Harry's footsteps as they made their way behind a battered looking shack. "I've encountered far worse in the Egyptian pyramids."

"Ssshhh," Harry whispered and they fell into silence at once, straining their ears for sounds of movement over the lull of the rain.

Ginny had just made a quick scan of the other shacks in the area when she saw a man shuffling quietly from the front entrance of the shack they were hiding behind. She felt Harry's arm beside her and directed his attention to the man now moving towards a slightly shabbier hut. The man looked up when he got to the door and checked the perimeter before disappearing inside.

"That's got to be it," Ron whispered, and they all moved at once, Ron towards the hut on the left of the one the man had disappeared into, and Harry to the hut on the right with Ginny close behind him.

"Remember, stunners only," Harry whispered and Ginny had just begun to ponder this command when she felt it; a tingling spreading from her toes, up her legs and quickly covering her entire body. She looked down to see that her body had reappeared and, glancing at Harry, realized the same thing must have happened to the others.

"There must be an enchantment to reveal deceptive spells if you get too close to the main meeting area," Harry whispered rapidly, peering around the edge of the building to see that Ron too had reappeared.

"Should we lea --" Ginny started, but the rest of her sentence was cut short as an angry red spell whizzed between her and Harry.

At once they raised their wands and aimed stunning spells back at the main hut where the spell had come from. From Ron's angry outburst she knew the occupants of the hut must have been hurtling spells at him as well.

"We've got to get out of here!" Harry shouted as a green streak hit the outcropping above them, showing the ground with splinters of wood.

"Hang on!" Ginny replied, moving directly behind Harry. He shielded her as she did a quick and intricate wave of her wand. "It's safe to Apparate, they expected they might need to leave in a hurry as well," she said.

"Ron, go!" Harry shouted and in an instant he heard the obvious _pop _of Ron's departure. He turned to find Ginny sending a stream of _Reducto_ curses against the building and was surprised to see that she had almost blasted away half of one wall. "Ginny, go now!"

And she ceased her attack only to turn on the spot, vanishing instantly from view, Harry following immediately.

* * *

"Did you take care of them?" a low voice drawled lazily. He had never stood from his seat at the table, even though several of his colleagues had gathered at the window slits to shoot spells at the trespassers. 

"No," a tall, hunch-shouldered man replied, stepping from the window and back to the table. "They Apparated out before any of us could hit them. Looked like two or three wizards, Aurors probably."

"Malfoy, I thought you said it was safe to meet among these filthy Muggles?" Another, slightly shorter and stockier man had turned from where had been examining the nearly collapsed wall. "I thought you said wizards would _never _think to look for us hiding among wretched Muggles?"

"It seems I was mistaken," Draco said simply. "I have no idea how the location of this meeting has leaked out, but I assure you, it will not happen again. We must change our tactics; find a new place to meet in secret. We will stay under the guise of supporting Muggle terrorists --"

"But that's what they'll expect!" the shorter man exclaimed angrily.

"No, that is precisely what they will _not _expect," Draco explained calmly. "They will expect us to be anxious and not use the same decoy twice. By moving to another Muggle group we will throw them off our trail and be able to proceed with the plan."

He was pleased to see a general consent among those still seated at the table. Only the sharp tapping of a muggle machine gun broke the silence, and he could tell the others found the noise, and likely the use, of such a barbaric weapon, distasteful; the killing cures was much cleaner and more effective.

Someone at the far end of the table cleared their throat and spoke quietly, "I quite agree with Malfoy. We will remain concealed within the Muggles. Shall we continue our meeting?"

It was nearly an hour later that Malfoy finally stood, his legs aching faintly from lack of use. He was almost to the door, preparing to Apparate home immediately, when he caught sight of the tall, hunch-shouldered wizard who had been watching the attacking Aurors earlier.

"Muciber, a word?" Draco said and the man turned to look at him curiously. "Are you certain you did not recognize the intruding wizards earlier?"

"No, sir, it was too dark to be convinced of their identities," the man explained. "Like I said before, there were three of them; two were a little bigger than the third."

Malfoy turned to leave, but was stopped as the other man let out a tiny gasp.

"Malfoy, I've just remembered the third one, the smaller one, I think I remember him having long hair."

"Long hair?"

"Yes. Now I think about it, I think it was red hair, too." He seemed pleased with himself for recalling this bit of information.

"Thank you. I'll look into it," Draco replied, ignoring the strange tug in his gut and turning instead to the door.

He stepped outside, only a bit surprised that it was still raining, and turned on the spot.

He arrived quietly in the foyer of Malfoy Manor and once his eyes had adjusted to the brighter light he discerned several large trunks littering the floor about his feet.

"Oh, Draco, you're back," Narcissa Malfoy called as she made her way down the handsome marble staircase. "I was hoping to say goodbye before I left."

"I thought you weren't leaving for great-grandmother Irma's until tomorrow?"

"I wasn't," Narcissa explained, stopping by a large black trunk to pull on a pair of traveling gloves. "But she Flooed me just tonight and said the weather in Southern France had been perfect lately, so I decided to leave early. Besides, the weather here has been dreadful. Have you noticed we haven't anything but rain in weeks?"

He had noticed, but found it unnecessary to answer as she moved towards the door, clasping her traveling cloak around her neck.

"Will you be alright here, alone for nearly five months?" she asked. "I can stay if you want; postpone the usual summer trip to grandmothers."

"No Mother, I'm completely capable of taking care of myself," he answered, grinning reassuringly.

"Are you su --"

"Yes, I'm quite certain. I'll be fine. Tell great-grandmother Irma hello from me."

"Well then, I'll see you in September," she replied, pointing her wand at the trunks surrounding her. With a wave they shrunk to the size of galleons and she tucked them safely inside her robes.

Her hand had just touched the doorknob when she turned to him, her worried face betraying her steady voice. "Owl me if you need anything. And do be careful, won't you? You know you must remain undetected and --"

"I know," he interrupted, striding to her and hugging her to him. He pulled away and saw that her face had smoothed into peaceful reassurance. "Have a lovely holiday, Mother."

He waited until after he heard her Disapparate before he strode to the front door and wrenched it open. The rain seemed to have followed him from his meeting, with only the temperature changing. This rain was like ice; yet he welcomed it, stepped out into the freezing cold and let it penetrate his skin like icy daggers. He felt unusual, torn, as if bits of him were strewn across the countryside he had just traipsed across. In a moment, he was soaked, but still he could not calm his breathing. His thoughts were racing and he could not prevent the fragmented memories from filling his mind.

It was several long moments later before the rain was finally able to numb him. He held his face towards the skies, letting the rain pelt his skin an instant more, before he stepped back into the warmth of the manor, his breathing cool and even.

_And a hundred days and nights could find me scattered  
All around the world without a name_

**

* * *

**

**A/N: **

**Sorry if you are getting multiple alerts for the same chapter. Although I proof the chapters 2 or 3 times before posting them, sometimes I miss a mistake and have to go back and fix it, which means I end up replacing the old chapter. Sorry for the confusion. Expect me to update (new chapters along with fixing typos) frequently, as I have the world's most boring job ever.**

**Song "Standing in a Circle of Quiet" Over the Rhine**

* * *


	6. Make Some Trouble

**A/N: I'm trying to space out the updates so there's one every couple days. Let me know if I'm sending out too much, too soon. Stories are much easier to write if you map them out properly.**

* * *

Chapter 6 "Make Some Trouble"

* * *

_If you came to make some trouble  
Better make it good…_

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy?" He looked up as Karin poked her head into his office. "Mr. Scrutch is here to see you. Says he has his final report. Should I send him in?"

"Yes, thank you."

He waited until the door swung shut before he grinned triumphantly.

Finally, after weeks of impatient waiting, he would know more about the personal life Ginevra Weasley seemed so keen to keep under lock and key. He had been covertly asking around within his circles, but had turned nothing up, besides things he already knew from the first preliminary report.

"Good afternoon, sir," Scrutch greeted, taking up his usual seat in front of Draco's large desk.

"Well?" Draco was feeling impatient now that answers were so close at hand.

"What would you like to know first?" Scrutch started, grinning. The scowl on Draco's face, however, quickly erased Scrutch's grin. "You asked about her private life, her dating history," he began, talking fast now. "It seems Ms. Weasley has dated very few since graduating Hogwarts. Three men seem to have captured her interest in the last seven years, but not for very long. From my inquiries, it appears her longest relationship lasted roughly five or six months, no longer. Looks as if she's easily bored."

Draco nodded. This made perfect sense to him, especially when he thought of his previous encounters with the youngest Weasley. She was feisty and determined.

_And brave, _he thought with a grimace, remembering how she had disarmed him in the murky vaults of Gringotts, _always the courageous Gryffindor._

"And these men, who are they?" he asked.

"It's all here in this file," Scrutch said, handing over a thin, beige folder. He opened another, thicker, folder and read over a few lines before speaking. "She's living at her parents' house for the time being. But she's traveled quite a bit, living in Egypt, Romania, France and Transylvania, although only a year or two at a time. I won't read you the list of counties, but she's made it to almost every European one, most of northern Africa and even some places in Asian."

Again he handed over the file and Draco grasped it, feeling it's substantial weight.

"And how did she afford such luxurious travels?" Draco asked, sneering.

"She acquired the job with Gringotts directly following her graduation. Her brother, Bill, helped her out at first, but the job pays well and she only had herself to support," Mr. Scrutch explained.

Draco pondered this last bit of information while Mr. Scrutch dug in his briefcase for the last folder, the one that would hold information about her friends and family. It seemed there was much about Weasley that he did not know.

"Here we are, last one," Scrutch said, pulling out a dark burgundy folder. "Her oldest brother, Bill, is also a charm-breaker for Gringotts and is married to Fleur Delacour of France. They have two young children. Charlie, who works with dragons in Romania, is next oldest and lives with his wife and infant son. You remember, of course the next one, Percy, who was killed during the final battle of the last war?" Draco did not move or make any indication that he had heard, but Scrutch continued. "Next are the twins, which I'd wager you remember from school." He paused and Draco recalled with appreciation a spectacular display of fireworks. "They have just opened a new joke shop in Hogsmeade and are doing quite well for themselves. Both are still single. I'm sure you also remember Ron, and are aware that he works as an Auror for the Ministry of Magic." Draco nodded. "Lately he has been seeing Luna Lovegood, another of your old classmates."

"And the Weasley parents?" Draco asked, not wishing to dwell on the thought of Ron and Luna.

"Mr. Weasley is still at the Ministry and Mrs. Weasley is known to dote copiously on her grandchildren while pestering for more," Scrutch said. "Ginny has few close friends, but I'm sure you'll recognize Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom?" Draco said nothing. "Well, those three appear to be her closest friends," he finished, handing Draco the final folder.

"Thank you for your services. If there is nothing else, you may find your final payment with my assistant."

"There is one more thing, sir," he said, standing. "I know my previous report said she has had little social life since she returned, but this morning I was informed that tonight she will be attending the engagement party of Mr. Potter and Ms. Granger."

Mr. Scrutch had just placed his hand on the shinning silver of the door handle when Draco spoke.

"And where is this party?"

"I believe they've rented the Leaky Cauldron, sir," Mr Scrutch replied. "Needed a place easily accessible for Muggles, seeing as how Granger's parents – "

"Thank you."

As soon as Mr. Srutch's heel had disappeared from view, Draco hastily grabbed his quill and a scrap piece of parchment, swiftly scribbling a short note. He called his eagle owl down from her perch by the window.

"Take this to Potter, please," he instructed, tying the note to the owl's outstretched leg. "And don't return without a reply."

* * *

_If you came to make trouble  
Make me a double honey  
I think it's good_

Just days ago Ginny had been aching for social interaction, now, her feet throbbing and her head pounding, she was yearning for a bit of solitude. She had arrived early to help decorate and arrange place settings, Tom looking only slightly flustered as Ginny, Hermione and their mothers persuaded him to relax in a back room.

Throughout dinner Ginny had lamented the decision to wear heels so high, but they matched her Muggle dress, a necessary wardrobe choice as several of the guests were non-magical and robes would have caused quite a stir. Many people were already perplexed at the appearance of a pub they had never seen before on a popular London street.

"Ginny? Where are you going? You've got to meet my uncle," Hermione called as the dinner plates were cleared. Ginny had just tried to make a break towards the vacant corner booth she had been eyeing longingly.

Another twenty minutes passed before she managed to extract herself from the throng of people now surrounding the happy couple. A four-man band had started up a jazzy melody in the corner and a small dance floor had appeared where the tables had been pushed to the side. She sighed happily as she finally made her way to an empty booth on the opposite side of the room. The overhead light had burned out, but she welcomed the darkness, hoping it would provide an escape from the overbearing crowd of well-wishers.

She slid onto the bench and let her head fall back against the cool wood before she felt another presence across from her. She half opened one eye, preparing to tell the twins or Neville to sod off, when she caught the corner of a smirk and groaned quietly, struggling to sit upright.

She leveled her eyes at Malfoy and tried to retain her composure.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed, not wanting to draw attention.

"Celebrating," he drawled, letting his eyes roam over her face and down to where the table covered the rest of her dress. She felt only a flicker of remorse for wearing the low-cut slinky black dress before snorting derisively.

"You loathe Harry and Hermione so tell me, what on _earth_ could you be celebrating?" she said quietly.

"Oh, I don't know," he said offhandedly, and his lips curled in a way that could have been a sinful-looking smile or a scowl of disgust, "Perhaps the pending union of two such noble magical people? Or perhaps I am simply here because I was _invited._"

She snorted then, unable to contain her disbelief. "Listen _Malfoy_, if you came here to make trouble, to ruin Harry and Hermione's happiness, you've got another thing coming." Her voice sounded calm, yet her sudden shift to a standing position had her towering over him menacingly.

"It's must be hard to be threatening, _Weasley,_" he spat, "when you aren't jabbing a wand in my face. And from the looks of that dress," her face grew red with embarrassment and anger as his eyes raked over her body, lingering on the slit that allowed a sliver of the glowing white skin of her knee to peek out, "you haven't got any place to hide a wand."

He stood then too, and was so close she was forced to take a step back.

"You speak as if you know anything about where witches like to have their wands," she whispered, realizing a change of strategy was in order. If the scandalized look he was giving her was any indication, she had figured out the perfect way to unhinge him.

He had recovered in a moment though, and was grinning mockingly again.

"Trust me, if it were my wand, I wouldn't be cramming it just anywhere," he took a step forward and she was vaguely conscious of the fact he was wearing a finely tailored Muggle suit. "I would grind it into all the right places."

She looked positively feral with rage as she dived for her wand, which he realized too late was strapped to her thigh just above the slit in her dress. She had just flipped back her dress to reveal the wand when he caught her wrist and pulled it between them. She stared into his eyes, momentarily shocked.

"Forgot I played Seeker too, did you?" he sneered. "You aren't the only one with swift reflexes."

His grip was firm on her wrist, but not painful. She looked down to see his long pale fingers snaked around her wrist and registered a faint woodsy scent that must have been his cologne.

When her eyes turned back to his face, she noticed he had a shadow of blond stubble just covering his jaw and deduced he must not have had time to shave before deciding to ruin her evening.

"Please remove your hands from me," she demanded, raising her eyes back to his and fighting to keep her voice low.

He hitched his eyebrows up for an instant, then moved his free hand to where the slit in her dress was revealing her wand. She stiffened, preparing to jerk away should he try to disarm her, but his hand scarcely touched the skin on her thigh as he pulled the silky material back over her wand.

"I'll play nice," he whispered, his eyes penetrating hers and his voice suddenly sounding dangerously velvety, "if you play nice."

She could not decide if she wanted to slap him soundly across the face or sweep her fingers over the blond whiskers on his cheek. She was mildly surprised to note she was not nearly as revolted by this thought as she should have been.

_Your sexy cocktail hour stubble  
Is doing what it should  
Looks may be sweet and subtle  
I think it's trouble honey  
I think it's good_

She tried once again to tug her wrist from his grip and was about to stomp the heel of her shoe on his foot when, out of the corner of her eye, she recognized one of Hermione's relatives coming towards them.

"Everything alright over here?"

Ginny sighed; it was the uncle she had met earlier. Surely Malfoy would release her now.

"I was just attempting to persuade this gorgeous young lady to honor me with a dance," Malfoy replied suavely before Ginny had even parted her lips. She felt the hand grasping hers move slightly and was stunned to look down and see he had maneuvered so that he was holding her hand in a way that looked as if he were about to kiss her knuckles.

"I – We –" Ginny stuttered, quite at loss for words, a rather annoying habit she seemed to be developing whenever Malfoy was nearby. Malfoy, however, took advantage of her shock to pull her free arm to his shoulder, placing his on her waist gently.

"Pardon me," the man said, smiling widely. He winked dramatically at Malfoy and Ginny fought the urge to shriek. "I'll leave you to it." And he marched off mumbling something about spring being a time for lovers.

Before she could protest further, Malfoy had navigated them to the general area of the dance floor and drawn her closer, so that their bodies were lightly touching.

The lighting in the pub was dim and a large crowd had congregated on and around the dance area, which made her feel quite sure they would not be noticed as long as their interactions did not escalate to shouts and disarming spells. It was this reasoning and her desire not to draw unnecessary attention that made her decide to play along.

Glancing around and seeing the vicinity reasonably free of familiar faces, she pressed her body closer to his and looked up to catch an astonished look cross his face.

He said nothing, but instead began to sway them in time with the music, turning slowly in a small circle.

"Why the sudden change of mind, Weasley? Did someone confound you when I wasn't looking?" he said after a moment, pulling back slightly to look into her eyes carefully.

"Hardly, Malfoy," she answered, her voice low and calm. "I've seen you three times now since Hogwarts, and each time we've had an awful row. I've just had the thought that, perhaps, you might be somewhat capable of having a civil conversation."

"Have you now?" he said, sounding amused.

"I mean, I'm not going to throw you a birthday party or get a Slytherin tattoo on my arse, but I figure we should call a truce before someone gets hurt." This time she was smirking at him and he scarcely had time to appreciate the wicked glint in her warm brown eyes before she continued: "And that someone would likely be you, seeing as how I'm so adept at putting you on your back."

She caught a glimpse of anger flashing in his eyes before he moved one of his hands to the small of her back and suddenly tilted her backwards in a low dip that had her long hair grazing the floor.

Once she managed to make the room stop spinning, her instinct had her reaching for the wand on her thigh. She had to muffle a startled cry when she felt her hand fall on Malfoy's slender fingers instead of her wand or dress. He had beaten her to the wand, covering it and half of her exposed thigh with his warm hand. She moved her free hand to his shoulder to pull herself closer to him then, afraid he was going to drop her, and this very slight movement made her aware of the way in which he was holding her. They were pressed together tightly and somehow he had wrapped her leg neatly around his lower body, aligning things in a certain manner, and she was sure the scene looked quite as erotic as it felt.

She was even more startled to find his face was so close to hers that she could feel his warm breath tickling the side of her neck.

"What were you saying about planting me on my back?" he murmured close to her ear.

When his lips lightly brushed her earlobe she found it surprisingly difficult to breath, let alone form a coherent sentence. He pulled her upright then, never breaking contact, the sides of their faces just touching. She felt her body relax a little as his hand slid from her thigh, up her side, finally resting to tangle in her hair. His other hand was still pressed firmly to the small of her back.

He pulled back from her then, lightly tilting her head back, so he could look into her eyes. She let her eyes drift closed at the intensity of his gaze and found herself leaning slightly closer to him, drawn to him in ways she could not comprehend or explain.

She felt her heart pounding violently and she could no longer hear the din of the crowded room or the sound of the band playing softly in the corner. Her body relaxed as she felt him inch closer, his breath moving to her face and she could not remember when she had draped her arms about his waist.

It was when she felt warm air on her lips that her breathing hitched. She wondered hazily if they had Disapparated because the room seemed to be closing in on them and she could feel nothing but the pressure of his body pressed tightly to every curve and bend of her own. Her mouth tingled with shear anticipation.

His lips had just brushed softly over hers when she felt him stiffen abruptly. A split-second latter she felt a sudden rush of cool air and the noises of the room burst upon her again. She jerked open her eyes to stare wildly about, noticing at once that he had gone. She let her arms drop clumsily to her side and squinted about the room, searching desperately for a flash of white-blond that would explain his sudden disappearance. She pushed her way out of the throng of people towards the booth, ready to lash out at him for even attempting to kiss her, but she did not find him there. By the time she made it to the door leading out into rain-drenched Muggle London she had searched the entire room twice and was certain that he had left. Her lips were still tingling with interrupted promises.

* * *

_I think this could be trouble  
I think it's trouble honey  
I think it's good  
If you came to make trouble  
Make me a double honey  
I think it's good_

* * *

He appeared in his bedroom out of breath and looking decidedly disheveled. He had not been prepared for things to happen so quickly. Had not expected his body to react so easily and passionately. Had not expected to want her so badly.

He stumbled over to his bed and threw himself on the green satin, hoping she had not seen the fear that had flitted across his face when he had pulled away from her.

He hoped even more that she had not heard the familiar laughter that had interrupted them and brought him crashing back to his senses. He hoped she had not seen the startled look Potter had given them as Draco turned and disappeared into the crowd.

He rolled onto his stomach then, clenching his eyes tight and trying to erase the image of her upturned face and parted pink lips. He groaned quietly into the bedding and hoped she had come to her senses as well and, most disturbing of all, wondered if she would be angry or disappointed at his abrupt exit.

_What may seem complicated  
Is overstated downright misunderstood  
Love will not be outdated  
Maybe placated but it's got to be good_

_We're far too serious  
I think we could be  
Such nefarious pyromantics_

* * *

**A/N: Kind of delightfully evil to leave you hanging like that, I know. Expect some better stuff very soon.**

**In case you were wondering, as I was, the lyric pyromantics is not misspelled. I thought it was supposed to be pyromaniacs at first, but then I looked up pyromantic and it means "divination by means of fire or flames." Pretty interesting, don't you think? **

**Song** ** "Trouble" Over the Rhine**

* * *


	7. Lost and Lovely

**A/N: ****For some reason this chapter ended up being ridiculously long, but every time I read through to edit it, I end up making it longer. Let me know if it's just pointless rambling and I'll shave it down some.**

**_Warning: In case you didn't realize, this story is rated M._**

* * *

Chapter 7 "Lost and Lovely"

* * *

_Maybe we're best, _

_Close to the ground..._

* * *

April was drawing to a close and if Draco hadn't known better, he would almost have suspected that Dementors were breeding again. But this dreary and dull weather wasn't nearly as dismal and hopeless as Dementor weather had been, all those years ago. 

Draco had been avoiding most everyone since his unpleasant departure from Potter's engagement party. Thinking of it now, nearly a full week later, still left a foul taste in his mouth. A week later and for some strange reason, he was still keeping an eye out for a flash of red hair. A week later and he was still battling moments of madness when her face would flicker faintly in his mind, suddenly and without warning. He found these moments, in particular, quite unnerving.

It was late Saturday evening when he decided to pay Neville Longbottom a visit at the art gallery. Draco was already on edge from thoughts of Weasley and the absurdly defiant dragon painting currently hanging on his bedroom wall had him at his wit's end.

A mere day after Draco had hung the spectacular painting in his bedroom, the animal had wandered off to the side, leaving only a bit of shimmering green tail visible. And now, weeks later, the dragon still refused to return, even after Draco had spent all day trying to coax it back into the painting. He took one last fuming look at the empty painting and, preparing to give Neville a stern lecture on the quality of the artwork he sold, pulled on his traveling cloak and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.

The sun was just beginning to set and the streets of Diagon Alley were considerably less crowded than usual as Draco walked purposefully towards the gallery. A light drizzle of rain was gently falling but he ignored it, stepping neatly over the growing puddles. He was a formidable sight; his black cloak flapping menacingly and the sinking sun behind him casting a long shadow in front of him, his face in darkness. He dodged a large puddle of rainwater and felt disappointment wash over him when he looked up.

Neville's gallery looked empty, but Draco marched to the door and knocked relentlessly for several minutes anyway. When a wrinkled old witch passed and gave him a rather stern look, he yielded. Obviously, Neville was out for the night.

Draco had just turned on his heel, more frustrated than ever, when he noticed movement and a flicker of light from a second-floor window.

He supposed Neville might have just arrived by Floo or Apparition and decided to try his luck at the side door he often used when meeting privately with Neville on business.

He glanced over his shoulder and found the street satisfactorily empty. Cautiously, he touched the doorknob and found it unlocked. He smiled faintly.

Draco pushed the door open and stepped into the deserted gallery. His footsteps echoed as he headed towards a small, winding spiral staircase in the back. The light was brighter at the top of the stairs than it had appeared from outside. At the end of a short hallway he saw a door standing slightly ajar, bright light spilling from around the doorjamb. He was already feeling better at the thought of Neville regretfully apologizing and promising to immediately set the painting right.

Draco pushed the door open and squinted into a light substantially brighter than the hallway had been.

"Longbo --"

He had been fully prepared to give Neville a real telling-off, but his eyes had adjusted to the intensity of the light and the words died on his lips, coming out as a hushed whisper.

Before him was an enormous window illuminating the room with the brilliant colors of the setting sun.

A small figure was facing the window, a paintbrush held in one hand and a large wooden palette in the other. A vast canvas practically glowing with vibrant colors was propped on an easel in front of the figure. He noticed at once that the colors were almost a perfect match to the blazing sunset framed in the window.

All thoughts of Neville disappeared when he took a few steps into the room and watched as Ginny dipped the brush deftly into a pool of burning red nearly the same color as her hair. She swirled the brush in the thick paint and touched it lightly to the canvas. She was so engrossed in her painting that she had not noticed him. He felt like he was intruding upon some intimate scene, yet he could not manage to tear his eyes from her.

The sunset was reminiscent of the dying embers of a fire, and she seemed to glow brilliantly in the burning red and gold, her hair shimmering and basking in the glow. Her cloak was draped of the back of a chair but he found her just as appealing in Muggle jeans and an old sweatshirt as she had been in the slinky black dress.

She turned suddenly, finally sensing another presence in the room. It was as she lifted her eyes to his that realization hit him like a stunning spell.

_Your paint dries_

_The canvas smiles_

_With two eyes you lift yourself up_

"What are you doing here Malfoy?" she asked quietly, turning to face him. She had not looked shaken to see him there. Instead, she had looked for all the world as if she had been _expecting_ him.

"It was _you_," he whispered, more to himself than anything.

"Pardon?" She let the palette droop slightly, careful not to spill any of the paint.

"It was you who painted that dragon." He took several steps towards her. The sun had dipped a little lower and the colors in the room were fading. "You painted that dragon, and the landscapes. Don't deny it. I recognize the style and the use of colors. "

"I wasn't about to deny it," she said nonchalantly, refusing to meet his gaze. "I like to paint in my spare time. Would you mind seeing yourself out? The light is fading fast and I'm trying to finish."

"So what?" he repeated, sounding incredulous. "So where did you learn to paint like that?"

"I didn't _learn_. I just can, all right? Now would you mind telling me how you got in here?" she demanded, jabbing the paintbrush towards him. A tiny drop of red dripped from the end and splattered on the floor.

"Never mind how I got in here." He took another step towards her, his eyes narrowed. "How about you tell me why you made me pay such a steep price for a painting that wasn't even done by a trained artist?"

"Oh, like you don't have galleons just collecting dust down in those vaults at Gringotts." She had no trouble meeting his eyes then, and her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Don't pretend like it was some big inconvenience. And before you open your foul mouth to make some pretentious remark about my deprived family and my supposed lust for wealth, let me set you straight." He had opened his mouth to protest, but closed it tightly at her words, looking outraged that she had known exactly what he had been about to say. "I didn't keep a knut of your filthy money. I gave half to Neville for his new gallery and the other half I donated to the children's ward at St. Mungo's."

He looked momentarily stunned, seemingly unable to decide what sort of retort her disclosure deserved.

"I came to speak to Neville about the dragon painting," he said, suddenly sounding very businesslike.

"What about it?"

"The dragon's wandered off and won't come back. I didn't pay 2,000 galleons to stare at an empty painting." He knew he had been unable to keep the anger and irritation out of his voice and was stunned when he saw her mouth twitch. An instant later she was laughing openly at him and he found the sound both delightful and infuriating. "I suppose you would think it's funny, wouldn't you? Stealing my money and tricking me?"

His spiteful tone could not completely wipe the smile from her face, but when he advanced, she held the dripping paintbrush between them like a wand.

"Take another step, and you'll regret it." She ginned mischievously as she dipped the brush back onto the palette, loading the bristles with red paint.

"Regret it, will I? As much as I regret the last time your nasty Weasley body was close to me?" He said, his mouth sneering and his eyes daring her to act.

He barely had time to recognize the scarcely contained rage within her eyes as she brought the brush up and whacked him across the head. Red paint splattered everywhere, showering an entire side of his face and hair with red.

He was stunned and she giggled as she drew a red circle around his temple. A few drops were trickling down the front of his pristine black robes before he registered what had happened.

Her laughter abruptly ceased when she felt a light pressure on the palette. She blinked and sputtered as a glob of white paint hit her squarely between the eyes and slid down her face.

"Why, you horrible prat!" she shrieked, dipping her brush into the black paint. She advanced and spread a shiny black line across his forehead before he could stop her.

She ducked but was not fast enough. He caught her in his arms and pulled her to him, crushing the palette and the brush between them. Paint and water dripped down their clothing but he did not care.

"You're going to pay for that, Weasley," he muttered. "And stop struggling, you're just spilling more paint."

She looked up, enraged that he was so calm all of a sudden, and her breath seemed to catch in her throat as she looked into his darkened eyes. He bent his head and caught his lips on her neck. He lightly kissed her neck and she moved involuntarily to give him better access. When he opened his mouth to lightly suck a particularly sensitive spot, she gasped at the feel of his warm tongue on her skin. He pulled back to gently blow cool air on the dampened skin of her neck and she moaned softly, letting the palette and brush clatter to the floor. He bit her neck roughly then, quickly running his tongue over the stinging skin, before pulling back to dazedly gaze into her heavily lidded eyes. His grip around her loosened slightly and she brought a hand up to lightly touch the skin where he had bitten her.

_Stroke your skin, there are teeth marks to be sure_

_Maybe we're best, close to the ground_

_Maybe angels drag us down_

_I wonder which part of this will leave the scar_

She looked up at him and grinned slyly before lifting her hand and threading her fingers in his paint-soaked hair. She tugged him towards her, glad when he got the message and pressed his searing hot lips to hers. He moaned softly and the noise stirred something within her that she did not recognize. She opened her mouth slightly and traced the outline of his lips with her tongue. He parted his lips then, met her tongue with his, and they stumbled, lost in a flurry of fervent kisses and a struggle to press themselves closer, to feel the warmth of each other's skin.

He moved her back a step and her hands fell to wrap around his chest. He broke their kiss only to cup her face in his hands and study her features with cloudy eyes. His stomach knotted pleasurably at the way she relaxed into his touch, her eyes scarcely open and her breathing raged. He rubbed his thumb across her cheek and left a smeared white streak in its wake.

Her eyes fluttered opened, gazed directly into his gray depths and she placed her hand softly on top of his. They stood silent and still in the darkness for a moment, framed by the window, as the last dying beams of sunset faded under the horizon.

_Dip your hands in colors_

_While the young night flutters in on you_

_And finger-paint me pictures of all you see_

_No matter what they say, you'll always be_

_Faithfully dangerous, lost and lovely_

_So beautiful to me_

_I'm not too blind to see_

He moved swiftly, pushing up against her and sealing her mouth with his. She seemed impatient now, desperate to touch his skin, and her fingers fumbled to unfasten the clasp of his cloak. He broke contact with her lips long enough to divulge himself of the cloak and pull her sweatshirt over her head.

Before her soft, red curls had landed on her bare back, she was in his arms again, staining her bra and stomach with paint as she struggled with the buttons of his shirt. He moaned against her lips as she managed to open his shirt and splay her warm hands across his bare chest. She pushed the black material from his shoulders as he undid the button on her jeans and slid them down. They parted again as she kicked the jeans from around her ankles and he quickly removed his trousers.

Their lips met again and neither noticed the paint that had dripped from their faces and clothes to smear their bodies. His first attempt to unhook her bra was unsuccessful, and after a second failed attempt he brought both hands up and ripped the black material apart.

"Malfoy! That was Egyptian silk," she said softly, glancing at the ruined fabric he had tossed to the floor and looking only mildly amused.

"I'll buy you more," he muttered, his eyes drifting to the flesh he had just exposed. "Although I rather like this view better." He cupped one breast, kneaded it softly, and she arched into him as his lips lowered to hers once again.

He skimmed his hands down her sides, delighting in her curves and the velvety softness of her skin. He smoothed his hands over the silk covering her bottom and cupped it roughly. He stopped to rip the sides of the exotic material from her skin and tossed the destroyed garment out of the way. He felt her naked arse then, ran his hands over the silky skin and squeezed her tightly as he lifted her up. She made a noise low in her throat as she wrapped her long legs around his torso, mashing her exposed breasts to his chest. She could feel the evidence of his arousal jutting into her thigh and she moved her hips lightly against it, eliciting a feral growl from him.

He had not been prepared for the wonderfully evil way she had ground against him and before he could calm his hammering heart he felt his knees buckle.

_Red is blood. Black is sky._

_White's the dove that longs to fly._

_You set it free and it beats its wings in me._

_It leaves us at a loss for words._

_Is that me now in your arms?_

_We cradle together and fall down on our knees._

They fell to the floor in a tumble of legs and arms and Draco suddenly found himself pinned beneath her.

She planted her knees firmly on either side of his hips as he struggled to switch their positions. He could feel her heat radiating through his underwear and it took all the restraint he could muster not to push aside the straining fabric and plunge into her.

"Still regret touching me last time?" She smiled playfully and ran her hands down his chest, smudging the red and black paint together.

"N – No," he gasped; struggling for control of his body and the situation.

She touched her shoulder, found a glob of white and added it to his chest, swirling her fingers dexterously around his nipples. His hips bucked upward uncontrollably and he cursed under his breath.

She chuckled softly and the action caused her breasts to shake lightly. He had not thought it possible, but he grew harder at the sight. She caught his stare and twisted his right nipple sharply, drawing a gasp from him.

"Who knew little Ginny Weasley was such a tease?" he panted, determined to pay her back double for the fantastic things she was doing to his body.

"A tease, am I?" She sounded mildly offended and leaned down to draw his bottom lip into her mouth and suck it gently. She shifted and when he opened his eyes he saw she was holding his wand. Fear flickered in his eyes, but she merely murmured something that sounded distinctly like "Evanesco" and tossed his wand back on top of their pile of discarded clothing.

He felt a sudden burst of cool air on his most intimate parts and realized that she had vanished his underpants. She didn't miss the shocked expression on his face and a smirk lit her eyes.

In one swift move he had switched their positions and latched on to one of her perfect, rose colored breasts. He sucked and teased her nipple, rolling it between his lips and grazing it with his teeth as she wound her fingers in his hair. She arched into him again as he moved to the other breast, moaning encouraging words as he alternated between licking and blowing cool air on the sensitive flesh.

When she was writhing beneath him, he moved up and kissed her soundly on the lips. She responded quickly and pressed her hips upwards, needing to feel him molded into her, needing to feel alive in a way that only he seemed capable of lately.

He felt her movements and broke their kiss to stare questioningly into her warm brown eyes. She nodded very slightly, moved her hand to grip him firmly and maneuvered him so that he rested lightly at her entrance. He waited only an instant more, giving her one last chance to change her mind, before smoothly gliding into her warmth, joining them completely. He moved slowly at first, savoring every drop of her heat. Then, unable to contain their desire, both began moving at a frenzied pace, meeting each other thrust for thrust, oblivious to everything but each other.

_Let the whole world drift downstream_

_We'll always be different_

_Swim the silent slipstream inside of me_

The world seemed to implode around them as they reached their climax together.

"Ginny," he breathed, crumpling onto her, nuzzling his nose on her neck and breathing in the smell of her, of their union, mingled with sweat and paint.

She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back while their breathing returned to normal. Only then did he feel the slight stinging on his shoulders from where she had left long nail marks.

Feeling quite unlike himself, he lifted his head to place a light kiss on the side of her forehead free from paint before laying his head on her chest. It was in the final moments before sleep took him that he realized the rhythmic noise that had calmed and soothed him was the beating of her heart.

_The heart that beats is yours inside me_

_Red is love. Black is night._

_I'm drunk with angels taking flight_

_The heart that beats is yours inside me_

_The heart that beats is yours . . ._

It was after he woke from a particularly vivid dream, that he determined he must leave. He extricated himself from her embrace carefully and grabbed his clothes. He glanced at her as she curled in slightly, unconsciously searching for him, and he took her cloak from its place on the chair and covered her carefully.

He pulled on his clothes and fastened his cloak before turning to gaze at her slumbering form. He bent and touched her face lightly; felt the dried paint crack under his fingers and heard a tiny sigh escape her lips. He felt a stab in his chest and pulled away quickly.

He fled from the room and down the spiral staircase, heading for the main door. He did not hesitate on the decision he had made when he woke wrapped comfortably in her arms despite a night spent sleeping on a hard wooden floor. He should avoid her at all costs. He had to. His life was too complicated, too dangerous, for him to drag her into it.

He closed the door softly behind him, surprised to turn and find himself squinting against a bright morning sunrise. The rain had finally stopped.

* * *

_White's the dove that longs to fly_

_You set it free and it beats its wings in me_

* * *

**A/N: Again, opinions are always welcome. I'm not sure if this turned out quite like I wanted. It moved kind of slow, but I wanted to build a vivid scene with lots of descriptions. Was it too much?**

**Song "Faithfully Dangerous" Over the Rhine**

* * *


	8. Calm the Troubled Sea

**A/N: This was the hardest chapter yet to write. Let me know what you think. Reviews make me very happy. And happy authors update sooner! Haha. Thanks in advance for reading!**

* * *

Chapter 8 "Calm the Troubled Sea"

* * *

_Don't be bothered by the fears,  
I'll try to bottle them like my mother's perfume._

* * *

Ginny stirred, brushed the hair out of her face and rolled to the side with a barely audible moan. Her back was aching, she was cold and she couldn't quite recall why she was sleeping on the floor. She tried to stretch out onto her stomach and felt a sharp stabbing pain on her outer thigh. She gasped, and the sharp intake of breath filled her nostrils with the faint smell of paint and all at once the events of the previous evening flooded her mind. 

_Draco bloody Malfoy_, she thought, groaning and pressing her face against the coolness of the floor, silently begging the boards to open up and swallow her whole. She tilted her head slightly to the left, hiding behind a curtain of hair and desperately hoping that her eyes would not light on the blonde abomination. She opened one eye a slither and peered out cautiously. Finding the area empty, she opened both eyes and rolled onto her back, taking a moment to position the robe across her exposed body.

She glanced around the room to double check that she was indeed alone and, feeling only a slight pang at his absence, let her mind wander to the next pressing issue.

She had slept with Malfoy.

She had let him touch her and she had touched him. They had done things last night that were making her blush in the sensible light of day. Things, she admitted quite begrudgingly, she rather enjoyed. The admission of this final thought brought a smirk to her face and she lifted her arms up to cushion her head against the floor, her elbows splayed out, feeling quite sated.

She had not planned for things to play out quite like they had, but she could not deny the connection she felt with him. Maybe she was bored, maybe she craved excitement in a reckless sort of way, but her recent clashes with Malfoy had left her feeling invigorated and alive in a way she could not explain. When he had kissed her last night, well, that felt quite a lot better than the arguing, and she did not regret what had happened after the kiss.

She was only a smidgen curious as to why he had bolted before sunrise. She tried to ignore the nagging feeling that he had left because being with her had made him feel dirty, as if she were somehow beneath him. She tried to ignore the irksome thought that maybe he had been temporarily insane, but he had initiated the contact, she told herself. He had made the first move and there could be a myriad of reasons for him leaving her cold and alone.

She sighed and pushed the thoughts from her mind, determined not to over-analyze things too much and let the prat ruin her good mood. It had been a fun night and there had been no proclamations of undying love and eternal commitment. Expecting those things from Malfoy was silly.

She glimpsed towards the window and, judging from the position of the sun, figured she should clear out before Neville returned from Hogsmeade. She stood gingerly and wrapped the robe around her naked form.

"No need to display all the goods to the entire alley," she mumbled to herself, bending to retrieve her undergarments. "That bloody _wanker_," she whined. Still unable to keep a small smile from her face, she stepped over to the bin and tossed the destroyed garments before pulling her jeans and sweatshirt on under her robes.

It wasn't until she glanced at her reflection in the window that she realized she was covered in dried paint. She fumbled for her wand on the floor and performed a quick scourgify on her face, neck and hair. She turned to gather her paints and brushes and decided at once that another scourgify was in order. She had just packed the last brush away into her satchel when she heard the sound of someone Apparating downstairs. She touched a finger to the sunset painting, found it still soft, and left it resting on the easel before making her way downstairs.

"Morning Neville," she called.

Neville was hanging his traveling cloak on a peg just inside the back entrance. He looked tired but not at all surprised to see that Ginny was still in his gallery.

"Did you finish the painting? It looked like you had a nice start when I left yesterday," he asked, following her towards his office.

"No, that's why I stopped to chat. Is it alright if I leave it to dry here for a couple days?" She stopped at the door to let him pass.

"You didn't finish? But you were here all night?" He stopped halfway inside the room and looked to her inquiringly.

"Well, I got a bit distracted." Her eyes were staring at the wall behind his desk but she knew he was looking at her intently. From the corner of her eye she saw him lean towards her and draw a breath.

"Is that – ? Are those – Ginny those are teeth marks on your neck?" He exclaimed and blocked the hand she had jerked up to cover the spot on her neck.

"No, no those aren't tee – " she stammered unconvincingly, pulling her hand from his grip.

"And what's that?" He had leaned forward to investigate the marks and was now sniffing her robes gingerly. "Ginevra Weasley! You smell like sex and paint!" He raised his eyebrows, grinned and folded his arms across his chest. "Seeing as how it's my place of business, and residence, mind you, I require an explanation."

She blushed furiously and sighed in a defeated sort of way.

"Do I know him?"

She snorted and barely contained an eye roll. "Oh, I'd say you know him quite well, seeing as he just bought one of the most expensive painting you've ever sold."

She marched to the nearest chair and sank into it, cringing as Neville let out a gasp of dawning comprehension.

"Malfoy?!" He made his way behind the desk and fell into his chair at her confirming nod. Ginny was feeling very small, but Neville was looking quite thoughtful. "So are the rumors true?" He started, grinning mischievously. "I've heard he's quite well-endow --"

"Neville!" She looked highly affronted and was suddenly sitting properly in her chair. "I refuse to discuss the details."

"So can I have a rough overview? The last thing I knew, you were plotting ways to remove his extra appendages," he said, chuckling softly.

"I don't know, Neville. We've just been having these run-ins lately, and last night he showed up here looking for you." He opened his mouth to ask why Malfoy had been looking for him but she waved a hand and continued. "Something about that dragon wandering out of the painting. But he showed up, and we argued and then he was kissing me and, and, well, things…progressed," she finished lamely.

"I'd say. Biting is definitely progression from what you've told me about your other trysts."

They laughed and Ginny felt at ease again.

"You should see what he did to my knickers; ripped them clean apart." She snickered at the look on Neville's face.

"Too much," Neville winced. "Too much information."

She laughed again and settled back into her chair.

"So what now?" he asked, studying her carefully.

"I've no idea. I don't really imagine this is going to lead to anything," she said nonchalantly. "Every girl needs a night of excitement, right?"

"That's what it was? Just a one-night thing?"

"Yea," she replied, not sounding entirely convinced. Ginny was not a "one-night" kind of girl. "Just a heated moment of passion. I think the paint fumes must have gone to our heads." She tried to laugh it off, but Neville was frowning at her.

"You know he's been asking around about you?"

"What?"

"He's been casually asking around, trying to find out what you've been up to." Neville was leaning across the desk now, looking at her pleadingly. "You will be careful, won't you? I don't know what he's after, but I'm sure it's something. I'm not convinced he's going to be happy with a one-night deal."

Ginny looked worried for a moment, but her mind drifted back to the empty studio upstairs and the fact that she had woken alone.

"Look Neville, he had cleared out by sunrise. I doubt someone who was interested in anything more would have done something like that, don't you?" He shrugged and they sat in silence for a moment, each lost in thought, until Ginny's gaze wandered to the clock in the corner of the room and she jumped to her feet. "Shite! Is that really the time? I'm supposed to be home for lunch in half an hour."

She was down the hall and almost to the main entrance when Neville called to her from the doorway of his office.

"Promise me you'll be cautious of him, Ginny? Please?" He asked, looking years older as his brow wrinkled in concern.

"Yes, yes of course Neville. You've nothing to worry about. Thanks for letting me use the studio and leave the painting. See you later!" She exclaimed.

"See you," he said to himself as the hem of her cloak disappeared into the burning sunlight.

* * *

_Your fire burns me like a favorite song.  
A song I should have known all along.  
I feel you move like smoke in my eyes._

* * *

Draco had been pacing since returning home late that afternoon, replaying in his mind what had happened, what he had done, the mess he had inevitably thrust himself into. 

He raked a hand through his hair and repeated to himself for the hundredth time that he should have known better. He should not have pursued her. He should have called upon the countless girls who regularly threw themselves at him. He should not have let lust conquer him. He was a _Malfoy, _for Merlin's sake.

And what the hell was that strange aching in his chest? It wasn't particularly painful, just odd and uncomfortable, almost like the fluttering feeling of expecting an extra step when descending stairs and hitting floor instead. It had been happening at random moments ever since the Weasel had disarmed him at Gringotts.

"She's cursed me," he whispered, flinging his frame into a large armchair by the fireplace and pressing the heels of his hands against his closed eyes. Closing his eyes was like resuming a personal movie that he could not stop; he saw her slender body sprawled out before him, her firey hair fanned out around her head and he watched helplessly as his own hand reached down to twirl a soft curl then trace the curve of her face. He exhaled slowly and rubbed his eyelids until he saw tiny stars burst before him.

He grasped his wand and extinguished the fire without opening his eyes. Sunlight had been streaming through the two large windows in his bedroom all afternoon and the room was stifling. He stood, walked to the bed and lay back against the cool satin, unable to stop the fresh flood of memories.

He threaded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling, casting around his brain for something, _anything, _else to focus on. His mind wandered to his office and the work that he had to finish the next day. He glanced at the dark fireplace and thought vaguely of Flooing his mother to check up on her, but could not bring his body to move from the cool confines of his large, four-poster bed.

Movement on the other side of the room caught his attention and he sat up, shocked to see that the dragon painting was no longer empty. He slid from the bed and crossed to the painting, squinting in the fleeting rays of daylight. He studied the returned dragon, marveling at its sudden appearance.

It looked just as it had the night he had purchased it, its tail gently flicking and great sparkling eyes occasionally blinking. He looked into the dragons' eyes and gave a startled cry; reflected in the great eyes was a petite witch with flaming red hair. She was standing in front of a large canvas that was blocking her face, a brush dangling loosely in one hand.

He took a step closer to inspect the tiny image, wondering how he had not spotted the reflection before. She had to have painted herself there, and he was grudgingly impressed with her cleverness. It was almost as if she had been daring someone to figure out who Neville's famous mysterious artist was, which would explain her lack of surprise when he had finally figured her out.

His attention was drawn back to the painting suddenly when an invisible wind tossed her red mane and he saw a tiny hand reach up and smooth the hair back. She peeked around the edge of the canvas and gave him, er, the dragon, a warm smile before lifting her brush back to the canvas. Not only was she invading his thoughts, but now she was occupying a painting in his bedroom. She glanced up again, giving him a cheeky grin, and he felt the familiar ache tugging in his chest. He backed away suddenly, feeling trapped by her presence.

He strode to the door and plucked his cloak from the chair where he had discarded it earlier. He draped the cloak over his shoulders, pulled his wand from a pocket and Disapparated to a place where he could think properly.

* * *

_Don't be bothered by the fears,  
They'll only join us like the sky that blushes red tonight.  
And makes the wind die down,  
Calms the troubled sea._

* * *

He appeared suddenly, high atop a steep cliff overlooking the sea. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting the sky into blushing shades of red and orange. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers and peered into the distance where he could just see the faint outlines of the day's last tourists heading down the hill. He turned his back to the distant figures, confident that no one had noticed him, and gazed down where, hundred of meters below, the ocean waves were crashing wildly against the bottom of the cliff. 

A heavy gust of wind whipped his cloak around his knees and he lifted his head to gaze out at the Atlantic Ocean, feeling at ease for the first time all day. He let his eyes drift closed and reveled in the warmth of the suns last rays. He often came to the cliff to clear his mind and was always comforted by how simpler and smaller his troubles seemed from this vantage point.

He tilted his head back slightly, angling it more towards the disappearing sun, and let the wind whirl his hair around his face.

He took a deep breath, inhaled the fresh ocean air, a feeling of tranquility washing over him, and wondered again why he could not stop thinking of her. It had only been sex, after all. He found her physically attractive, he reasoned, and Malfoys _always_ got what they wanted, that was all. But even as the thought crossed his mind he knew it wasn't entirely true. He had felt a connection with her that he did not wish to dwell on. There was a sorrow in her eyes that drew him to her in ways he did not understand.

He frowned and opened his eyes to look out towards the ocean. The wind was picking up and the sun appeared to be sinking into the distant waters.

He was certainly no virgin, but he did not make it a habit to involve himself in one-night affairs. That had not been his intention with the youngest Weasley. He had not intended to even kiss her, much less consummate what could hardly be referred to as a relationship.

But what exactly had he intended? Surely not the opposite, he thought, snorting contemptuously. He definitely had no intentions of wooing the youngest Weasley. He visibly cringed when he thought of a houseful of pink-haired Weasley offspring.

"Ginny," he corrected, testing the name on his lips. The sound was pleasing, smooth and effortless, yet somehow much more. The sun dipped under the horizon coating the sky in a blaze of color and he could hear nothing but the wind whipping in his ears. "Ginny," he breathed. The name fell from his lips again, crept out with his breath and was carried away on the wind.

* * *

_I feel you move like smoke in my eyes  
And that is why_

* * *

**A/N: The cliffs I had in mind when I wrote this last scene with Draco are the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland.**

**Cliffs:**

http://smg. an image of them at sunset I found online: 

http://www.magico.ie/files/admin/uploads/W127FImage216107.JPG

**I was there last summer and standing atop those cliffs really puts things into perspective. It was fantastically beautiful.**

**Don't forget to review!**


	9. Nothing is Innocent Now

**A/N: Thanks so much to my lovely reviewers! Hope you enjoy this chapter and leave nice, long, reviews. Someone pointed out that my anonymous review option was disabled, (I had no idea) so I've changed it now. Any and all reviews are welcome, including anonymous ones, as long as they're constructive! Enjoy chapter 9, I think it's the lightest and most fun one so far!**

* * *

Chapter 9 "Nothing is Innocent Now"

* * *

_We'd wake the dead  
With voices in our head  
We've gotten used to ignoring the truth_

* * *

"End of discussion, Ginny," Molly said, turning back to the sink. "You _will_ be there tonight, along with your father and brothers."

Ginny, grumbling and feeling superbly defeated, took the toast her mother had laid out on the kitchen table, stomped into the backyard and Disapparated to work.

It had been two weeks since Ginny had woken alone in Neville's gallery. Two weeks of avoiding Malfoy, anxiously checking streets before she ventured outside and steering clear of public events. She had not felt up to another confrontation, especially when her company seemed to disgust him so much. But June was approaching and that meant the annual Summer Ministry Ball marking the anniversary of Voldemort's defeat.

She had tried again that morning to convince her mother it was pointless for her to attend. She had been before and no one needed her to sulk miserably in a corner like she usually did. She loathed obligatory social small-talk and rather agreed with Fred and George's standpoint on how deplorable the evening would be if they had to spend it with wizarding society's most uptight and boring.

Predictably, her mother had been as stubborn as she had, but Molly's pleading to have the whole family together had eventually won out. Molly had been a lot more like her old self as of late, which might have been a result of the newly unveiled war memorial in Hogsmeade that bore all the names of the casualties, including Percy's. Whatever the cause for the lightened mood in the Burrow, Ginny was not about to question it too much, or be the reason for things to sink back into melancholy.

Ginny greeted a few goblins as she entered the bank and blinked to allow her eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness of the building.

"Can you believe this change of weather?" Bill asked as she made her way into their shared office. He was leaning back in his char, feet propped on the desk in front of him and an open folder on his lap. "I was beginning to think it'd never be sunny or warm again."

She made a noncommittal noise in her throat and hung her traveling cloak on a stand by the door.

"So mum finally got to you about the Ball, then?" Bill asked, chuckling. "Which argument did she use this time? Guilt? Responsibility?

She raised her eyes and glared at him. "Family duty."

She started shifting through a pile of parchment on her desk, searching for the days vault assignment.

"My personal favorite, that one. It's ironclad," he replied.

"Do you have today's assignment?" she asked distractedly.

"Besides, I don't see why you were being so stubborn about it in the first place," he continued, ignoring her question. "You're a single, attractive witch, but you haven't done anything since work since we got home. Maybe you can meet a nice fellow."

"Maybe we should get to work checking vaults instead of chatting about my love life," she gritted from between her teeth. She could handle her mother meddling, she was used to that, but when her brothers started nagging her, that was a different story altogether.

"What love life?" he mumbled snidely, snickering at the look on her face.

"Bill, you've always been my favorite brother. Please, don't make me regret that decision," she sighed.

He stood, ready to dodge any curse she might throw at him, and walked around to her desk.

"Oh all right, I'm sorry you can't take a bit of teasing. Did anyone ever tell you that you aren't a very friendly morning person?" He smiled and handed her the folder he had been perusing earlier. "We're starting down at vault 812 today."

She stared at him angrily for a moment before taking the file, realizing he had let her search her desk in vain, just to annoy her.

"Lucky you're my brother, or I'd hex you into Knockturn Alley," she replied, standing and not waiting for him to follow.

"Yea, lucky," he said, shaking his head and smiling to himself as he followed her retreating form.

* * *

_We close our eyes  
And breathe and eat the lies  
That tell us we're so much better_

* * *

It was nearing 8 p.m. and Draco was feeling extremely bad-tempered.

_It figures the weather would change to dry and hot just in time for this ridiculous ball_, he thought resentfully, adjusting his bow tie and casting a cooling charm on himself before he began sweating.

The sour look he had plastered on his pale face as he entered the Ministry dared anyone to speak to him. He had not wanted to attend and had thought seriously about blowing it off entirely. But being a Malfoy carried certain responsibilities and obligations. It would not have been a wise business or political move if he blatantly disregarded the Ministry and missed an event that marked the downfall of the most evil wizard in recent history.

He stepped into the crowded room and made a quick scan, hoping to avoid some of the more annoying socialites, and felt his breath catch in his throat. Standing in a far corner, flanked by at least three brothers and the Boy Wonder, was the youngest Weasley, looking more stunning than he remembered.

She moved and the soft candlelight of the room made her sleeveless emerald dress gleam. She leaned in as a tall redheaded man, who could only be her brother, whispered something to her and Draco longed to run his hands over the pale expanse of skin the plunging back of the dress revealed. She threw her head back along with her brother and he heard loud laughter float from their corner of the room. He studied the figures around her and identified her twin pranksters brothers, Potter, Granger, Ron and Lovegood.

_Figures,_ he thought bitterly_, the dream team reunited. _

He felt a sudden anger he could not explain and tore his eyes from the scene. He had no reason to be angry. He had not seen a sign of her in weeks and had the sneaking suspicion she was avoiding him. He had almost felt guilty about leaving her alone after their rendezvous, but from the looks of things, she seemed to be getting along wonderfully without him.

He ignored a twinge in his gut and turned towards the Ministry delegation from Scotland, hoping a long political talk would quell his absurd desire to seek out the youngest Weasley.

* * *

_Silence is loud  
Humility is so proud  
Nothing is innocent now_

* * *

"Three firewhiskey's, please," Ginny said, leaning lightly against the bar.

The bartender nodded and she let her gaze wander out over the crowd as she waited for the drinks. She caught sight of Ron and Luna drifting slowly around the dance floor and smiled softly. She could never have predicted that couple, but found they rounded each other out quite nicely. She was still shocked to see how quickly Luna could calm Ron down from a raging temper.

It was as her gaze drifted from Ron that she caught sight of a white-blond head of hair.

"_Bloody hell_," she murmured under her breath, thankful that she had not been holding the drinks.

She had been hoping fervently that Malfoy would not show up, but in hindsight she should have expected him.

She turned back to the bar, vowing to ignore him completely, and balanced the three drinks together cautiously before heading back to her friends and family.

"Bless you," George said, plucking two glasses from her and handing one to Fred.

"Yea Gin, I don't think I could take much more of this nonsense without my best Ministry friend -- Firewhiskey," Fred replied, taking a long pull from his glass, sighing, then smiling broadly.

"Me either." She took a sip of her drink and tried to ignore the flash of white she had spotted from the corner of her eye. "Any idea why _he's_ here?" Ginny asked, addressing Harry and nodding in Malfoy's direction.

"I don't know Ginny, he's a big supporter of the Ministry," Harry said when he had turned to look at whomever Ginny had pointed out.

Fred and George had been listening to the conversation and were smiling mischievously.

"Fred?" George started, grinning wildly and reaching for his wand.

"Yes, brother?" Fred had pulled his wand from his robe as well.

"I think this party needs something. "

"Yes, I think you're right. A bit of excitement, perhaps?."

"Something to shake things up."

"Make the front page of the Prophet."

"Free advertising for the shop? That's brilliant!" George said, turning to his brother.

"Have you got an extra Portable Swamp on you?"

"No, I've only got a couple Decoy Detonator's, but if I just nipped down to the shop I'm sure I could -- "

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley had appeared suddenly, standing between the twins. She took advantage of their alarm and grabbed both wands before they could move. "I'll be keeping _these_ until we're ready to go home, thank you."

"This is unjustifiable! We're of age!" Fred shrieked.

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me," she replied venomously and before anyone else could make another move she had stashed the wands and disappeared into the crowd.

"Fred, I think I'm going to need another drink," George grumbled, giving Hermione a murderous look before she could voice whatever it was she had been about to say.

"Yes, we'll see you lot later," Fred replied, and they stalked off towards the bar looking the most putout Ginny had ever seen them.

No one said anything for a moment as they watched Fred and George's retreating form and Ginny giggled when she caught sight of Luna leading Ron around the dance floor in an awkward version of what she suspected was a tango.

Hermione turned suddenly and clutched Harry's arm.

"Oh Harry, it's the Magical Law Enforcement agent from Germany! I've been trying to get in contact with him for ages. Would you mind terribly -- "

"Of course not," Harry laughed. "Go and don't worry about me. I've got a feeling Ginny here fancies a dance."

Hermione smiled lovingly at Harry and pecked him on the check before striding off to an intimidating looking man wearing vivid plum-colored robes.

"So, would you fancy a dance? I'm bored just standing here," Harry asked, holding his arm out to her.

"Sure," she replied, finishing her drink and placing it on a nearby table before taking Harry's arm.

She let him lead her out onto the dance floor just as the music changed to a slow, sultry number. He shrugged and she laughed as she lifted her arms to his shoulders.

His hands rested on her hips just above her waist and she was involuntarily reminded of someone else's hands and how they had felt against her skin.

She moved her head to the left slightly and, as if on cue, found herself staring across the crowded dance floor into stormy gray eyes. He was pressed tightly against a busty woman she knew to be his secretary, his hands low on her hips. He smirked at Ginny then, pulling the other woman closer and she felt anger boil inside her.

It was bad enough that she had been forced to attend this silly party and bad enough that _he_ had shown up, but the fact that he looked absolutely gorgeous in sleek, all-black dress robes, his hair falling gently into the corners of his eye, was just too much.

She watched him intently, hoping her face matched the scorn she felt at seeing him there. She tensed as he leaned down to whisper something to the woman clinging to him. Whatever he said must have been humorous, because the woman was suddenly laughing exuberantly, patting Draco's chest and trying to catch her breath, which seemed a little much, in Ginny's opinion.

"Pathetic," she whispered, more to herself than anything.

"I'm sorry?" Harry asked, confused.

"Oh, nothing, never mind," she apologized quickly. She had almost forgotten she was still dancing with Harry. She smiled then, an epiphany coming to her, and silently congratulated herself on her ingenuity.

_Harry Potter_, she thought, grinning wildly over Harry's shoulder, _bane of Draco Malfoy's existence_.

"Ginny?" Harry said, drawing her attention to him once again. "Ginny, what are you grinning about? You look so much like Fred and George right now it's a little disturbing."

She laughed, and Harry chuckled nervously.

"Harry, I'm going to need your cooperation for a moment. There's this wanker who's been rather annoying me lately and I'd like to put him in his place once and for all. Just play along, ok?" she smiled up at him sweetly.

He gave her a startled look when she moved closer to him, tensing as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She laced her fingers in his hair and twirled a short strand around her index finger, smiling wickedly at the pink tinge now spreading from the tips of Malfoy's ears.

"Ginny, I don't think this is a good idea," Harry said in a panicked strangle. "If Hermione sees this I'm going to be sleeping on the couch for a month."

"If Hermione sees," Ginny said matter-of-factly, "I'll explain everything to her and you can buy her a large box of Honeyduke's chocolates for her troubles."

"But Ginny -- "

"Shh," she whispered, leaning forward so that her lips were awfully close to his ear. If Voldemort had been able to produce murderous looks as intense as the one Draco Malfoy was sending their way, Harry might not have been The Boy Who Lived. "He hasn't had quite enough. Yet."

_The acid rain  
We fear the pain  
Will blister and burn the skin_

_But what is more  
The fear we bore  
Will eat us alive from within_

Draco could not remember a time when he had been this irate.

That _wench_ was practically throwing herself all over filthy Potter, and in front of all these people! And why was he so concerned about what she was doing? _Why_ was it taking all his willpower not to hex Potter into the next century for daring to lay hands on what was clearly_ his_? His?! He was so angry he could not think properly.

He took several deep, calming breaths and counted to 10 in English, Latin and French.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Karin asked. He looked down at her concerned face, unaware that he had still been holding her. Even though the band was still playing, they had stopped moving.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," he said, and starting moving them again in time to the music. He moved his eyes immediately back to Ginny, not even bothering to try and ignore her anymore.

His breathing had calmed considerably until she leaned forward and whispered into Potter's ear. He struggled for air and lost control the moment her lips lightly grazed the edge of the other man's ear.

He flung Karin away from him and pushed his way through the crowd, blind to the disgruntled partygoers.

"Unhand her, Potter," Draco demanded in a low, dangerous voice. "This instant."

He made to grab Ginny's wrist but she turned suddenly and Harry let his hands fall from Ginny's waist at once. Ginny clung to his forearm as he shielded her, an action she vaguely registered as being instinctual for him.

"What do you mean 'unhand her?' We're only dancing," Harry explained, recognizing Malfoy as their would-be attacker and looking highly confused.

"I do not want your filthy hands touching her _ever _again. Do I make myself clear?" Draco breathed. He seemed too angry to speak in anything but a harsh whisper.

"Excuse me? You are in no place to be telling me -- "

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny interrupted, letting her hand fall and stepping between the two men. The altercation had been very quiet, yet the people closest to them had turned to observe and Ginny had not wanted to make a scene. She had the feeling Rita Skeeter was probably lurking around the place somewhere. "This is between myself and Malfoy." She turned to Draco who, by the look on his face, had certainly not calmed down any. She reached a hand out to his arm, "Let's step outside and discuss -- "

"Get your hands _off _me, Weasley," he snarled, jerking from her grasp. "I don't need you fighting any battles for me and I certainly don't want you soiling my robes." He threw a dangerous look at Harry again. "This is not over, Potter," he said, turning and pushing his way from the crowd.

"Sorry Harry. I'll make it up to you," Ginny called, following Malfoy through the crowd.

He took the first door he came to and when Ginny burst through behind him she found a deserted storage room full of extra chairs and tables.

"Look Malfoy, I didn't mean to -- " She started.

"Yes, I believe you did!" He turned and advanced. "I believe you had every intention of infuriating me! You knew exactly what you were doing, so don't play innocent now!"

"Well, it was your fault in the first place!" She knew they were shouting, but could not bring herself to stand there and let him talk to her in such a manner. "Need I remind you that you were the one wrapped around that tramp in the first place?!"

"That _tramp_ is my secretary. My _single_ secretary. I'm well within my rights to share a dance with an attractive, available woman," he retorted, breathing heavily. "You, on the other hand, were throwing yourself, quite pathetically, at an engaged man."

"Potter is my friend, you bloody twit!" She retorted, taking a step closer so that they were within a few paces of each other. "It doesn't matter. I was just trying to make you feel how you made me fe-- " She stopped short, looking shocked at her words.

"Make me feel what, Weasley?" he said scathingly, his breathing returned to normal. "Make me feel jealous? Were you jealous that I wasn't dancing with _you_?"

"Well, it certainly appears I made you feel quite jealous, doesn't it?" She snapped, folding her arms across her chest.

They glared angrily at each other for a moment, both unable to admit the other had been right. After several minutes Ginny tossed her hands in the hair and sighed exasperatedly.

"What's this really about?" She asked.

"Why have you been ignoring me?" He said sharply, without thinking.

"What?"

"I've been to Gringotts four times asking for you and they always tell me you've just stepped out," he explained, looking pained at his admission. "Why are you avoiding me?"

"What? You're upset I didn't owl you, gushing pathetically like you're other women? Please! Besides, it's _you _who's been avoiding _me_!"

"I just told you I've been looking for you!" he exclaimed.

"I don't see how that's relevant. Might I remind you that you were the one who ran out on me before I could wake up?" she spat.

He cringed and looked at her with something she could almost call regret.

"About that," he started. "I – I didn't mean to leave you like that. I wasn't thinking properly." She glared at him and he rushed on. "Not like that. I didn't regret what happened. I wanted to stay, actually. That's why I left."

"That makes about as much sense as snow boots in Egypt." She folded her arms again and looked at him skeptically.

"Look, I can't explain it right now, alright? I don't understand what's going on myself, except that I've felt like a royal arse ever since I left you like that. I've been looking for you so that I could apologize properly. I didn't want to write you, that didn't seem good enough." Her look had softened and he surged ahead. "I – I'm sorry."

Her shock was plainly evident and he suppressed a snicker; now was not the time to get her riled up again. He hadn't actually realized why he had been looking for her until just then, but now that he had voiced the thoughts, he knew they were true.

"I'm sorry, too," she said quietly. "I shouldn't have been so immature about this whole thing tonight. I just made it worse."

"So you _were_ feeling jealous, then?" He asked the question before he could stop himself. He tensed for her wrath, but instead saw a pink blush creep down her cheeks.

"Yes, quite jealous," she admitted and he was surprised yet again that she had been looking him directly in the eye when she said it.

"Well, it's pretty obvious I was a bit jealous of Potter as well," he said casually, taking a step towards her and reaching out.

"A bit?" she laughed, stepping up to him and allowing herself to be folded into his arms. "You were about to throttle him in front of the entire Ministry of Magic."

"Well, I didn't like the way you were touching him," he admitted.

"And why is that?" She asked.

"Because I don't want you to touch anyone like that," he looked into her eyes seriously before smirking. "Except me, of course."

She pushed away from him then, and he thought he had said something wrong until he saw that she was smiling coyly.

"Then let's start over, alright? I don't want to start anything on the foot we've started on," she explained and he thought the idea had some merit. She thrust out her hand. "Hello, I'm Ginny Weasley."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead took her hand in his.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Draco Malfoy, businessman, heir to the Malfoy fortune, and devilishly handsome. You might have heard of me." He pulled her hand to his lips and wiggled his eyebrows in a playful way she had not expected from him.

"Oh, I think I remember. You were a year ahead of me at Hogwarts, right?" She asked innocently. He nodded and she smiled brightly. "Oh yes, I remember now. You were that awful bullying git my brother used to tell me so much about. Tell me, are you still an insufferable toerag?"

The grin faded from his face at once and he felt ready to spit nails. She moved before he could drop her hand, laughing and pulling him to her, crushing her lips to his. He hesitated for only a moment before deepening the kiss and running his hands down the exposed flesh of her back. He kissed her long and hard, their tongues battling until they were both gasping for air and staggering from the dizziness of their passion. He was preparing to pull her to him again, preparing to show her how much he had yearned for her touch in the weeks of their separation, when she stepped away from him and placed a finger over his lips to stifle his protests.

"You've got to learn how to take a joke if you're going to be spending anytime around me, Malfoy," she whispered. She lowered her finger and dropped a chaste kiss on his lips. He closed his eyes to savor the feel of her smooth lips and the delicate smell of her perfume mingling with his cologne. "And I'd like to spend quite a bit of time with you."

When he opened his eyes she had already gone.

* * *

_For you and me  
In the land of the free  
Is anything innocent now?_

* * *

**A/N: I forgot to list the song last chapter. It was "Bothered" from Over the Rhine. And this chapter's song is also from Over the Rhine. They're pretty much my favorite band and the mood of their songs really seems to fit with this story. Look them up on Myspace if you'd like to get an idea of their sound (listen to "Trouble" on their Myspace page; it's the song used in chapter 6 and what I listened to on repeat the whole time I was writing the chapter.) I think the song from this chapter is also on their page. **

**And I promise, not all of the songs in this story will be from them. A Joni Mitchell song inspired the chapter I'm most looking forward to writing. **

**Anyway, read and review!! **

* * *


	10. The Truth is, I Bleed You

**A/N: Sorry it's taken so long to update. I've been rather busy lately, but I do hope you enjoy this chapter. Again, thanks so much to all my fantastically amazing reviewers and please, review this chapter as well!  
**

* * *

Chapter 10 "The truth is, I bleed you"

* * *

_I guess I never told you_

_About this life I'm living_

* * *

The next morning Ginny had just stepped from the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy scarlet robe, when she noticed the owl tapping gently at her bedroom window. 

The creature was carrying a large parcel wrapped in green and silver. She immediately opened the window, grasped the package and recognized the handwriting from his many files at Gringotts. She untied the letter from the owl's leg, tossed her a few owl treats and freed the string from around the package.

"Why, you do keep your word, don't you Malfoy?" she murmured to herself, lifting a dark green brassiere from the box.

She checked the tag and whistled in appreciation. Not only was it Egyptian silk, but it was exactly her size. She shifted through the contents of the box and found three sets of silkly emerald green undergarments and one rather racy pair of transparent black lace.

"Oh my," she whispered, replacing the knickers and finally turning her attention to the letter.

She read it through twice, unable to keep the grin from her face, before scribbling a reply and attaching it to the waiting birds' leg.

She practically flounced back into the bathroom, carrying the box with her and feeling a cheerfulness she had not experienced on a Sunday morning in ages. She wondered vaguely how much Malfoy would appreciate it if she wore only those lacy knickers to their date on Friday.

* * *

_It's heaven versus hell_

_In a split decision  
_

* * *

He looked up from his paperwork and grinned pompously when he received her prompt reply. He stroked the wing of his owl gently, glad Ginny had agreed to his suggestion of meeting him at the Leaky Cauldron, and tried to quell the excitement bubbling in his chest. 

The moment he had realized she had left him so abruptly the night before, he had decided to owl her for a proper date. She was right, as much as he did not wish to admit it. They had started off rather horribly and he was determined to show her that he was not quite as arrogant a git as he had been at school.

He folded her reply and tucked it inside the drawer of his desk where he kept private paperwork, making a mental note that it would be four long days before he saw her again.

* * *

_This secret religion is_

_The best that I've found  
_

* * *

It was Friday evening and she was, despite her best efforts, running behind schedule. 

She glared at the Weasley clock, cursing her habitual tardiness, as the hand labeled "Ginny" moved to "late."

She pondered for possibly the 10th time that day why Malfoy had asked her to wear Muggle clothes for their date. She and Hermione had spent Wednesday evening seraching several shops in Muggle London before Ginny had decided on skinny black slacks and a green military-style jacket with elbow-length sleeves and a white singlet underneath. She wore her hair pulled back in a long, curling ponytail.

She had just fastened her traveling cloak over the Muggle clothes when her father emerged from his study.

"Another late night at the bank?" he asked as he crossed into the kitchen, not bothering to look up from the book about Muggle plugs he was reading enthusiastically.

"Yes, I'll be home late," she called, rushing to the door. "Don't wait up!"

She jerked the front door open and turned on the spot the moment her stiletto boots hit dirt.

She appeared suddenly in the small courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron, but instead of tapping the brick wall and heading down Diagon Alley, she turned and burst into the pub.

She saw Malfoy immediately, standing stiffly by the main street entrance. She was halfway across the room before she realized what he was wearing and stopped suddenly. He was clad in black trousers and a dark green cashmere jumper. She studied him silently for a moment, only mildly surprised that she found him somehow more attractive in the simple clothing.

He caught her eye and she hurried over to him.

"So sorry I'm late," she breathed.

He looked tense for a moment, as though he were biting back a scathing comment, before replying calmly.

"It's after seven, Weasley, but I suppose ten minutes isn't _that _bad." She scoffed and he smiled faintly. "I believe I should apologize as well. I only arrived five minutes ago, thinking I was dreadfully late."

"What, Perfect Mr. Malfoy was late?" He pulled a face at the name and she laughed lightly.

He motioned towards the door and she followed him out of the pub, falling in step beside him as they started off down the busy London street. The early June air was pleasantly warm on her face.

"Might I inquire as to why you requested I wear Muggle clothing?"

He turned towards her and a familiar smirk lit his face.

"I'd have thought it obvious, seeing as we're currently parading about Muggle London."

Not wishing to have another row, she simply arched her eyebrows and continued: "And why exactly _are_ we parading about Muggle London?"

"That, I'm afraid to say, is something you're going to have to wait to find out about."

He stopped abruptly and raised a hand. It was a moment before she realized he had hailed a taxi and her confusion heightened.

He pulled the door open and gestured for her to get in, but she was still going over the fact that he seemed oddly familiar with the non-Magical section of London.

"Unless you'd like to take the Tube?" he asked.

"No, this is fine," she replied, recovering and sliding into the backseat of the vehicle. He slid in beside her and closed the door.

"St. James Park, Marlborough Gate entrance, please," he said to the driver before turning to gaze at her. "You look very nice, by the way."

"Thank you. You look handsome as well."

She was too baffled to blush and only gaped silently at him as the streets flew by in a rush of summer colors.

In seemingly no time at all, the driver had announced their destination and Draco was pulling Muggle notes from his pocket. They were on the sidewalk when Ginny turned to him, more puzzled than ever.

"This is all very nice, and don't get angry, but how do you -- ?"

"Know about Muggles? I thought you'd realized by now that I am certainly not my father." He frowned at her, but did not appear irritated. "My mother and I stumbled upon this fantastic French restaurant a few years ago and it happened to be a Muggle establishment. Since then, we've found we quite enjoy Muggle cuisine and one must become familiar with how to properly pay and --"

"That's wonderful! My father would simply love that," she interrupted, feeling uncomfortable at her unfounded prejudices. "I'm sorry for thinking it strange for you to be familiar with all this."

"It's quite alright," he replied, turning towards a magnificent looking park she had only just noticed. "This is St. James Park and, in my opinion, one of London's most beautiful places."

She gazed around, taking in the soaring trees and lush green lawns, and found she quite agreed.

He led her to a street vendor and they fell in the queue behind a harried mother juggling a baby on her hip while a toddler raced around her legs.

"I thought we'd grab a sandwich and some coffee. Take in the park or something. Sunset by the lake should be nice tonight," he said quietly, stepping deftly to avoid colliding with the small child that was zooming towards him.

She simply nodded and pondered again how very different this man was from the pointy-faced boy she remembered from school. She didn't realize she had been staring at him, smiling stupidly, until he turned and meet her gaze. He smiled widely at her then, and the effect it had on his features was starling. His face relaxed and she found him warm and appealing.

The woman in front of them had somehow balanced the baby and their food in her hands before staggering off, the toddler trailing quickly behind her. Draco and Ginny ordered and again Draco paid with Muggle money. He was heading to a bench underneath an enormous elk tree when Ginny stopped him.

"Oh, can't we walk around and eat? It's just, I've never been to a park this huge and spectacular and I'd love to have a look about." She smiled sweetly at him and he could not deny her.

They tucked their sandwiches in napkins, sipping their coffee, and took off along a winding path, eating and chatting casually as the sun started its slow evening descent.

"So," she began, "you mentioned your mother earlier. Are you very close?"

"Yes, I suppose so," he replied, pausing to take a swallow of his coffee. "She's in France right now. Since father died, she's been taking a summer holiday at her grandmother's house every year. I don't expect her back until September."

"Isn't it lonely without her? Or do you have your own flat or something?" she asked, thinking of her own large family and how it was comforting, although at times slightly annoying, to constantly be in the company of others.

"No, I live at the Manor, and I don't find it particularly lonely. I stay busy enough, managing the estate and all," he said, shrugging. "It was always just the three of us any how."

Ginny simply nodded and took another bit of her sandwich, letting her mind drift back to a letter she had received from Ron years ago that had briefly mentioned the news that Lucius Malfoy had been killed by comrade during a Death Eater round-up after the war.

"What about you?" he asked. "I remember there being about 20 Weasley's. Tell me about your family."

"There are quite a few of us, but not 20," she laughed and easily recited all her siblings' names, starting with herself and ending with Bill. "Then there's mum and dad, of course. Dad's still working for the Ministry and mum's doing whatever it is she does, which is usually meddling."

They stopped to drop their napkins and empty coffee cups into a rubbish bin and continued on around the path, a glistening lake gleaning in the distance.

"Did you start working for Gringotts right after Hogwarts then?" he asked.

"Yes. My brother Bill and his wife were moving to Egypt after the war and I went along. After training to be a charm-breaker, I joined a traveling team. I'm really lucky to have traveled so much these last few years. It's been a blast." She paused, composing her thoughts, and let her eyes wander over the sloping lawn to her left. She saw a young couple lounging on a blanket, cooing to an infant who kept reaching upwards, trying to pull the glasses from the woman's face. "But I've missed my family; my home."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment and Ginny heard the faint chiming of a clock announcing it was quarter after eight.

They moved closer together to let a large group of sight-seers pass, and Ginny felt the back of his hand brush hers lightly. He flexed his hand and hooked his index finger around her pinkie before pulling her hand into his and lacing his fingers with hers.

His hand was soft and warm and fit with hers nicely. She grasped his fingers gently and smiled when he squeezed back.

"When did you start painting?" he asked once the crowd had dissipated.

"Oh, I used to draw these silly little doodles everywhere when I was at school. Neville would get so angry whenever I'd cover his school books with drawings. He bought me a set of paints for Christmas in my fifth year. I painted a little, whenever I had time. But things, well, the war, got in the way. My brother, Percy, he died in the Final Battle," she explained and felt Draco's hand tense suddenly. She looked up at him, but his expression had not changed from that of curious interest. The lake had come into focus and they started across a bridge leading over it "Anyway, for months after Percy's death I couldn't bear to look at the paints or touch a brush. It was after I had been in Egypt for a while before I was feeling myself again. The Ancient Egyptian wizards had amazingly strong belief in the afterlife," she finished quietly.

* * *

_Is there room in the universe_

_For one last wish  
_

* * *

"Ginny, about your bro --" he started, but stopped when she let go of his hand and turned from him. 

They were in the middle of the bridge and she had dropped his hand to rush to the rail and look out over the lake. The sun was sinking slowly, illuminating the distant Shell Tower and London Eye.

He moved to stand beside her and when she turned he decided that she looked incredibly beautiful in the glowing rays of sunset.

"I'm sorry Draco, were you saying something?" She blinked up at him.

"No, it wasn't important," he said quickly.

He followed her eyes back out over the lake and watched as the giant wheel turned slowly.

* * *

_The wound is deep_

_I'm just trying to confess it_

* * *

"Have you ever been on it?" he asked, nodding his head towards the wheel. 

"No," she answered, trying to keep the excitement from her voice.

"Me either, but I've heard you can see most of London from up there. Shall we have a go on it?" he asked, offering his arm.

"Yes, I'd like that, thanks." She took his arm and they set off on a path around the lake, heading towards the large structure.

When they arrived at the ticket office the queue was curiously short and Draco craned his neck to glimpse the front and ensure the attraction was still open.

"It closes at 9 p.m.," he mumbled, pushing up his sleeve to check his watch. "We've still got half an hour."

Ginny alerted him to some rather interestingly dresses Muggles and they laughed quietly while they waited. Draco purchased two tickets and they headed towards the loading area.

"What did that man call these things again?" Ginny asked, indicating the glass area where passengers were being loaded.

"Capsules, I believe," he smirked, watching as a loud and bossy employee steered people into the capsule; a woman had just stepped on, clutching a wailing baby. "And I do hope they don't try and cram us all onto that one."

Ginny laughed at the disgruntled look on his face and he pretended to look affronted at her mockery.

The employee closed the capsule and told Draco and Ginny they would have to wait for the next one.

"Thank Merlin," Draco whispered to Ginny, sighing exaggeratedly. She giggled and slapped his forearm playfully. "Oh, oh, ohhhh," he clucked, grasping her hand in his and pulling her closer to his side. "Ms. Weasley, I thought we had an agreement? I'm nice if you're nice…"

She was about to remind him that she had, in fact, been exceedingly nice for the duration of their date, but another capsule had arrived and the employee was directing them inside.

Draco clasped her hand snugly and steered her to the far side of the capsule while the employee pointed the last of the day's customers in and closed the door behind them.

Ginny saw the ground moving away slowly and glanced around; no more than 10 other people were spread out around the capsule, all engaged in their own private conversations.

It was when she turned back to the glass that she noticed the view spreading out before her. The capsule was slowly climbing as the surrounding buildings grew smaller and smaller. The setting sun was illuminating the Thames, turning the water a shining red-orange color and she squinted against its brightness, eager to soak in the incredible scenery.

"Do London Muggles really like this enormous contraption?" he asked casually.

"Well, it does quite stand out against the other buildings, doesn't it? But the views are absolutely spectacular. I've never seen London in this light before," she replied, unable to tear her eyes from the view.

Their capsule was climbing higher as the sun was sinking faster and the sky was blazing orange and red, casting London in a strange and fiery light. She could see the sparkling city sprawling out in all directions and quickly identified the Muggle Parliament and Big Ben. Everything looked so small and inconsequential from this height. It reminded her, just a little, of flying, although it would have been like flying in slow motion.

When the capsule reached its highest point she could see for miles in all directions, the city a myriad of shapes and colors. Long shadows were stretching from the tallest buildings as the sky faded into a deep crimson and purple blend.

"It's beautiful, don't you think, Draco?" she whispered.

"Yes, quite beautiful," he breathed.

She lifted eyes to Draco and was startled to find he was staring at her.

He brought his hand up to cup her cheek and pulled her face to his. She knew there were other people in the capsule, but could not find it in herself to care. Draco was kissing her feverishly and without thinking, she wrapped her arms around him. It had been nearly a week since she had felt his lips on hers, felt the way she molded neatly against him; how they seemed to fit together effortlessly.

Her heart was hammering in her chest when they broke the kiss, needing to breathe properly. She lingered in his embrace, feeling safe and comfortable. It was a moment before she was capable of coherent thoughts and she blushed gently when a couple of teenage boys whistled loudly at them.

"They're only jealous, you know," Draco mumbled into her ear, causing her to blush even harder. She took several calming breaths as the capsule glided towards the earth.

"Maybe they're jealous of me," she teased, winking and pulling back so that his lips were a safe distance from her earlobes.

He stole a quick glance at the teens before sneering at her.

"They look nothing like Potter, so I find it highly unlikely they're interested in me." She laughed despite herself and let her arms fall from his waist as the capsule stopped and the doors opened.

They stepped into the increasing darkness and Ginny buttoned her coat against a sudden burst of cool air.

"There's an Apparition point nearby," Draco told her.

He must have noticed her shiver, because he wrapped a warm arm around her shoulders and they started out towards a secluded side street. They stepped into what looked like a normal bus shelter, but she knew there were anti-Muggle wards around the structure.

He pulled her to his chest and wrapped his other arm around her.

"When can I see you again?" he asked, searching her face. The close proximity of their bodies made her head spin pleasantly and her heart do a strange sort of tap-dance in her chest.

"Tomorrow?"

"I'll owl you." He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck, seemingly reluctant to let go of her.

"What, you don't want to pick me up at my house?" she asked, smirking when he pulled back to look at her with a look of horror on his pale face.

"Are you nutters? I don't think I could fight off all those Weasley men. Not with all my limbs, and, uhm, _members, _in tact. Besides," he pulled her to his lips and mumbled against their softness, "there's just one Weasley I'm interested in pleasing at the moment."

This kiss was different; tender and affectionate. They took their time, exploring each others mouths, moving in a languid sort of way, each unwilling to end the kiss before the other. The distant honk of a car horn shattered the silence and the spell the kiss had cast over them was broken.

"I – I should be getting home," she whispered.

"Of course," he answered, resting his forehead on hers and struggling to regain control of his breathing.

"Goodnight, Draco."

She took a step back, dropping a light kiss on his check, and pulled her wand from an inside pocket of her jacket.

"I'd wondered where you'd stashed it this time," he said, grinning cheekily at her.

She smiled sinfully at him, winked and then turned on the spot.

* * *

She appeared at the far end of the lane that lead to the Burrow. This had been intentional; she had meant to have a walk and hopefully clear her mind. She flipped her collar up against the cooler country air and strode off through the darkness, her thoughts jumbled. 

Draco was arrogant, charming, confusing, mysterious and wonderful. He was a conundrum she wasn't quite sure she wanted to figure out. He made her angry one moment and giggly and breathless the next. Most importantly of all, he had made herfeel like she was finally doing something worthwhile; like she had finally found the path she had been so desperately searching for.

It was this thought that she found most frightening.

She could forgive many of his former transgressions, but she was not yet able to forget them entirely. He had been at the bank, meeting a mysterious person, at midnight. It was suspicious, to say the least. And all those years ago, he had been responsible for letting Death Eaters into the school. She knew from Harry that Voldemort had threatened his family, and she could forgive his actions as self and family preservation. But still. Something was amiss.

She looked up when she reached the porch and caught a glimpse of her parents through the living room window. The curtains were open and she could see them sitting closely together on the couch. Her mother was knitting one of the famous Weasley sweaters and her father was still reading; his free arm draped nonchalantly across Molly's shoulders. Ginny smiled when she saw he was absently twirling a red tendril of his wife's hair around his finger. Unbidden, images of Draco's fingers tangled in her own hair floated to the surface of her mind.

She decided on the spot that she should not surrender her heart to Draco.

She worried it might already be too late.

* * *

_The truth is I bleed you_

_When these frequencies cut me_

* * *

**A/N: I think this is kind of a boring chapter, but I promise it's going to get better!**

**Also, If there are any readers from London, or anyone who's ever been to London, I beg that you overlook my horrible comprehension of geography. I've never been to London myself, and I've taken great liberties here. So sorry!**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know any and all thoughts as reviews are ALWAYS welcome!!!**

* * *


	11. A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love

**A/N: I'm really, honestly, truly, sorry it's taken me so long to update! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I've just been really busy and feeling really uninspired lately. But to make up for it, this chapter is the longest one yet. Not that longer is always better. Oh anyway! I hope it's worth the wait!!! Please, read and review!!!  
**

* * *

Chapter 11 "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love"

* * *

_I've been awake for a while now_

_You've got me feelin' like a child now  
_

* * *

Dazzlingly summer light was streaming through the curtains around his four-poster bed when he woke. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to remember his dream, but the images were already slipping from his memories like grains of sand in a sieve. 

He opened his eyes, gazing at the dust particles floating in the sunlight, and let his mind wander to the night before. The sunlight reminded him of her fire and he could not stop the curious warmth that spread over him.

After a few moments he realized it was the weekend, he had promised to owl her and there was nothing stopping him from enjoying her company right away. He sat up quickly, pushed his bed hangings apart and walked to the window. He could feel the sweltering July heat radiating from the glass before he pulled the curtains back.

He blinked into the bright morning sun several times before his eyes focused on the owl blinking serenely at him from the window ledge. He let the animal in and watched bemusedly as it landed on the back of his desk chair. He took the note from the bird's talon and started scanning the words quickly when he realized the owl was waiting for his answer.

He recognized Ginny's small, slanted handwriting at once, but had to read the letter through twice before comprehending.

He settled himself in the chair and placed the letter in front of him, feeling unexpectedly dumbfounded.

Ginny had beaten him to it. She was asking him out. She was taking him somewhere today, and she'd be dammed if she let him pay. It said so in her letter.

He started at the parchment, held it up to the light and studied it carefully. It seemed real enough and that was certainly her handwriting.

Apparently she had seen an advertisement in the morning's Daily Prophet that she decided held "infinitely fun possibilities." She had already made arrangements and he was to meet her at an Appartion point just outside London that afternoon at 4:30 p.m. sharp. Wondering why on earth she had said to wear casual Muggle clothes, he called for his personal house elf and demanded to see the early edition paper.

"Have a little patience, will you?" he grumbled to the owl. It had moved to his desk and was now hopping from one leg to the other anxiously. "I'd like to know exactly what I'm getting myself into before I agree to it…"

He trailed off, quickly scanning the pages of the newspaper. Nothing extraordinary caught his eye, and, ceding defeat, he pulled out his quill and loaded it with ink.

The nervousness he felt as he watched the owl take flight was quite lackadaisical; spending the day with Ginny, no matter what evil scheme she had cooked up, would be quite worth the hassle.

* * *

_Cause every time I see your bubbly face_

_I get the tingles in a silly place  
_

* * *

He departed for their meeting a full fifteen minutes early, determined to search the area for clues as to where she was taking him, assuming the meeting point was not their final destination. He hated not knowing what she had planned. He had never been one for surprises. 

He arrived in a tiny alleyway between a Muggle petrol station and a dingy looking grocery market.

This was certainly not reassuring.

This area was well outside the bustling London streets and he wondered again what the rest of the day had in store for him. He emerged from the alley and squinted against the sizzling afternoon sun, comfortable in a plain white polo shirt and jeans. He studied his surroundings and saw the area was scarcely populated with insignificant looking buildings. Weeds were growing between the cracks in the sidewalk and even the road beyond looked desolate.

He had just settled himself on a warm bench outside the market when he heard the bell above the door jingle softly. He glanced up automatically and saw Ginny stepping from the store. She was wearing a short lavender sundress with thin straps and her hair was swept half up, soft curls swaying around her shoulders as she made her way towards him. He smiled when he caught her eye and felt a pleasant tingling in his chest when she beamed back at him.

"You're early," she said, standing in front of him. It was only then that he noticed she was carrying a large square picnic basket. She followed his gaze and her smile turned effortlessly into a smirk. "Wondering what sort of nefarious plot I've got up my sleeve?"

"Actually, I couldn't have said it better myself," he said, standing and dropping a feathery kiss on her cheek. "We aren't going to have a picnic on this decrepit looking bench, are we?"

"Of course not," she replied, reaching for his hand and easily lacing her fingers with his before heading back towards the alleyway.

"Where then are you taking me?" he asked, a barely discernible note of frustration in his voice.

"It's a surprise."

"I detest surprises."

"I figured as much," she replied, pulling him into the shadows and transferring his hand to her waist. "But you've never experienced one of my surprises, so do try not to judge too soon."

"It's still a surprise – " He broke off as he felt her free arm snake around his neck and pull his head down slowly. "And if you expect me to eat on the ground," he murmured, "with ants and all sorts of vile creatures…" He could no longer speak, seeing as how her lips were pressed tightly against his.

He pulled her closer to him, felt the soft cotton of her dress against his hands and moved his other hand to caress the smooth, freckly skin of her shoulders. She tasted of fresh strawberries and he wanted nothing more than to stand there kissing her until his legs could no longer support him.

She pulled away slowly and he opened his mouth to protest but stopped as she pulled her wand from the basket swinging at his side. She pulled him close to her then, holding the wand out behind him and whispered in his ear.

"Shut up and hold on tightly."

He clutched her to him instinctively and closed his eyes when he felt the familiar breathlessness of Disapparation.

He took a deep breath an instant later and immediately identified the smell of saltwater and the distant cry of seagulls.

He opened his eyes when Ginny released him and watched as she replaced her wand in the front pocket of the basket.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around and trying to place the rolling green countryside. "Ireland?"

"No, we're still in England," she said, laughing quietly and reaching for his hand again.

"Well?" he demanded. There was an irritated edge to his voice, but when he took her hand his grasp was tender.

She led him from the clump of trees where they were standing and towards a winding path that disappeared over the top of a nearby hill.

"You really don't enjoy surprises, do you?" She turned her head to look at him and laughed at the pleading look in his eyes. "You're such a spoiled prat! You know that, don't you?"

"I'll have you know I'm not very accustomed to having a lady take _me_ on a date," he grumbled, kicking at a stone on the path. "Add to that not having a bloody clue where I am…well…"

"We're just outside the village of Freshwater," she said as they started up the small hill.

"What? On the Isle of Wight?" he asked, clearly perplexed.

"Yes," she answered. At the top of the hill they looked out on a large, sloping field that was anything but empty. Hundreds of people were milling about and a large stage stood empty and foreboding on the far side of the field so that the people facing it had a spectacular view of the cliffs and ocean beyond.

"And?"

"Oh, and this is Afton Down," she said simply, as though he were accustomed to traipsing about the countryside with picnic baskets like some sort of mysterious gypsy. "Where is the entrance?" she was peering around the perimeter of the area. "Aha!" he heard her whisper before she set off towards a grumpy looking man in a trench coat and top hat.

He followed behind her, his mind buzzing with more unanswered questions.

"Tickets?" the man asked, holding out a hand.

"Yes, I've got them here," Ginny replied, opening the lid of the basket and extracting two bright orange slips of parchment.

"Sit anywhere you like. If you get thirsty look for the Water Witch; she's got a bright red cart that's hard to miss. There are portable loo's over there by those trees, and remember, no magic," he recited in a tired monotone as he stamped their hands with the intertwined letters – WS. "We've already had to modify the memory of some Muggle kids who tried to follow a couple witches through the anti-Muggle protection charms. It wasn't pretty."

"Thank you, we'll be sure to stow our wands until we leave," Ginny reassured the man, motioning Draco to follow.

"Have fun," the man called as they headed into the center of the field.

"What's going on Ginny? Have you brought me to a – a concert?" Draco asked.

"Yes," she answered, excitement evident in her breathy voice. "The Weird Sisters have an outdoor concert here every summer and I've always wanted to go, but I've never been in the area at the right time."

She stopped at a vacant patch of grass. It was moderately close to the stage, but to the side and somewhat out of the main crowd. She sat the basket down, opened the top and extracted a large flowery blanket. She spread it out before them and slipped her sandals off before sinking to the ground, her legs crossed underneath her.

"The show doesn't start until 7 p.m. but I wanted to arrive early enough to get a good spot. I thought we'd have a picnic dinner while we waited." She looked up at him expectantly. "I promise you will not be attacked by any ants or other creepy crawlies."

"Oh? And how _exactly_ are you so certain I won't pick up a sandwich full of beetles?" He asked, folding his arms stubbornly across his chest.

"How did you know what I brought for dinner?" she asked incredulously. "I was in this tiny African village last summer and I found these delicious toasted beetles. I thought you might enjoy something exotic." His mouth went slack and he stared blankly at her, for once at a loss for words. She broke into a large grin and laughed heartily. "I'm only kidding."

He was so relieved he dropped gracefully to the ground and settled himself across from her.

"I ought to throttle you," he said throatily when he seemed to have regained his voice.

She laughed again as she started pulling dishes from the basket, which, he noted, was obviously enchanted to hold much more than a normal picnic basket.

"So we aren't having insects for dinner?" he asked, cautiously lifting the covering of the bowl she had just pulled from the basket and peering inside.

"No, we're having tapas. I had them when I was in Spain a couple years ago and I think they're great for outdoor things because you don't need silverware or anything," she explained as she started uncovering several small plates. "You do like seafood, I hope?"

"Yes, I enjoy seafood," he said, grinning despite himself. "I just hope it all tastes half as good as it smells…."

"You'll see," she replied, smirking arrogantly.

"What is that?" he asked, scrunching his nose in distaste as he eyed a plate of fish with dark red sauce.

"Spanish salt cod with spicy tomato sauce," she answered, picking up a small piece of the breaded fish and dipping it in the tomato sauce. "Try it." She held it up to his lips and he took a tentative bite. He chewed for a moment, appreciating the rich, zesty flavors. "Well?"

"It's very good," he admitted, smiling brightly at her.

"And you doubted it wouldn't be?" She scowled at him playfully before bursting into carefree giggles. He found her laughter beautifully contagious and joined her, despite himself. He was enjoying her company so much that he could not wipe the smile from his face as they sampled each of her wonderful dishes.

* * *

_… I'll always know_

_That you make me smile_

_Please stay for a while now_

_Just take your time  
_

* * *

"Well, that was pretty fantastic," he said, handing her the empty shrimp plate. He leaned back on his side, stretching his legs out and propping himself up by the elbow. The opening band, a Scottish group complete with kilts and bagpipes, had taken the stage but it was not yet so obnoxiously loud that he had to shout. "I have to hand it to you Weasley, you're an excellent cook. I just might have to keep you around." 

"Thanks a lot," she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. She pulled out her wand and looked around quickly before casting a cleansing charm on the dirty dishes, then stacking them back into the basket.

The sun was starting to set and he was about to reach for her join him on the blanket when she spoke.

"I hope you have room for dessert," she declared, extracting a bottle and two glasses from the basket.

"Champagne, Ms. Weasley?" She pulled a smaller circular basket out as well and he saw it was filled with fresh strawberries. "And strawberries? Why, you are doing this properly aren't you? Not only have _you_ taken _me_ on the date and arranged everything, but now I believe you are trying to _seduce_ me."

"Oh, please, Malfoy. You're joking, right?" She held the champagne bottle out to him. "Open it, won't you?"

He took the chilled bottle and nearly dropped it when she picked up a particularly large strawberry and took a bite from it, licking her lips as the red juice spilled out. She winked slyly at him and he twisted the cork absently. It sprang from the bottle with a loud popping noise and he grabbed a glass swiftly as the liquid bubbled to the top.

"It would be easy to seduce you if I were trying though, wouldn't it?" she laughed.

He sighed exasperatedly and rolled his eyes as he poured them both a glass of champagne. They sipped quietly and indulged in the fresh summer fruit as the sun slipped lower on the horizon.

"I picked these this morning, you know," Ginny said quietly, offering the basket of strawberries to Draco.

"So you're a gardener, too?"

"Oh no, that's my mother. So I guess you could say I stole these from her strawberry patch."

She looked at him guiltily and he swallowed the last of his champagne and scooted closer to her to drape an arm around her waist.

"Did you learn to cook from her, too?" he asked, and the sincerity of the question was evident in his voice.

"Yes, being the only girl she basically taught me everything I could ever want to know about proper cooking techniques."

She leaned away to clean up the last of their dishes. The first band had finished and the crowd was now migrating slowly towards the stage, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the Weird Sisters.

"Did your mother ever cook?" she asked, arranging things in the basket.

"No, not that I can remember. We had house elves for that sort of thing," he replied. "But she did make me take a cooking class one summer and that was dreadful. The only thing I could even halfway do was make breakfast foods," he admitted, chortling.

"You'll have to make me breakfast sometime," she called over her shoulder.

"If you think you can stomach it."

"Alright, then." She leaned back in to him, but pulled away suddenly. "Yuck, you're all sweaty."

"Well, it's bloody hot out here," he protested, dabbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "And you gave me alcohol."

"I'm not hot." She looked him over, and he tensed when her gaze lingered on his feet. "It's because you have those thick shoes and socks on."

"I'm dreadfully sorry, but civilized men do wear shoes and socks in public, so don't get any ideas -- pardon me?!" he finished in a strangled rush.

She had moved stealthily and settled on top of his knees so that he could not wiggle free when she slipped his shoes off. "Ginny, please don't – "

He felt a cool blast of air on his feet and watched as she balled his socks together and placed them inside one of his discarded shoes.

" – take my socks off."

She moved back to sit beside him, grinning wickedly and he knew he could not be angry with her.

"There, don't you feel better?" she inquired matter-of-factly.

"Yes, actually it does feel a little cooler all of a sudden." She smiled broadly but frowned when he continued: "Although I think the sun setting is mostly the cause."

She hit his arm playfully, shrieking indignantly, but the noise was quickly drowned out by the cheering of the crowd: the Weird Sisters were emerging on stage.

"Oh, I'm so excited!" she yelled, jumping to her feet and pulling him up with her.

The crowd chanted as the band did some last minute tuning. Then suddenly, the Weird Sisters launched into an up-tempo rock number and Draco watched, grinning madly as Ginny danced around their blanket gleefully. He found her just as entertaining as the concert and had to remind himself repeatedly that he was supposed to be watching the musicians, not her.

She kept trying to engage him in her wild dancing and only gave up during the third song when he halfheartedly threatened to sit down.

* * *

_You give me feelings that I adore_

_What am I gonna say?_

_When you make me feel this way_

_I just...mmm  
_

* * *

"Aren't you having fun?" she shouted a little while later, lifting her head back towards him. 

He had discovered she would stay fairly still if he held her lightly in his arms and swayed gently to the music.

"Yes, I'm having a good time," he replied, dropping a kiss on her forehead before she turned back towards the stage.

It was about an hour and a half later when she turned to him after the first encore and asked if he had seen the Water Witch.

"Yes, just a moment ago." He looked around and saw the bright red cart a couple meters behind them, stopped beside a large group of teenagers. "Shall I go and get us some water?"

She nodded and he set off towards the cart. He was halfway there before he realized he was walking about the place barefoot.

"What have you done to me Weasley?" he murmured to himself, falling in line behind a couple teenage girls having an argument about which member of the Weird sisters was most attractive.

"I still say it's Myron," a short blonde-haired girl declared. "The way he sings, it's just so, so, _sexy_…" she shivered and closed her eyes before breaking out in a fit of giggles. The other girl laughed along, but was shaking her head fiercely.

"You always go for the lead singers, Charlotte. It's too predictable. Now the drummer, on the other hand... I mean, have you seen how gorgeous Orsino is?"

They were giggling again as they handed the Water Witch their money and Draco rolled his eyes impatiently.

He had just handed Ginny her bottle of water when the Weird Sisters' lead singer addressed the audience.

"You've been an excellent crowd Afton Down!! But I'm sorry to say this will be our last song." The crowd booed loudly and the lead singer smiled. "Oh, now, cheer up. We'll be back next year."

The audience broke into tumultuous applause. He waved them down and waited until things were relatively quiet before he spoke again. "This last song is a little different, an oldie we like to cover every now and then. It's one of my mum's favorites and we hope you enjoy it." He turned around and counted off for the band.

Draco had barely registered that it was a slow jazzy number before Ginny turned to him, looking exuberant.

"Draco this is an old Celestina Warbeck song! "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love!"

"That's a _song_?" he asked, snickering.

"Yes! My mum makes us listen to this every Christmas on the Wireless!" She grabbed his arm and pulled him off the blanket so they were standing in the grass. "We have to dance to THIS one. It was my mum and dad's song."

She looked so thrilled at hearing her favorite band play such a familiar song that he could not deny her this last dance. It was a slow song, after all.

"Oh, if we must," he said, but smiled nonetheless, pulling him to her.

She slid her arms around his chest and laid her head on his shoulder, her mouth just level with his neck.

He bent his head down slightly and nuzzled his face against her hair, sighing contently as the music and the ocean breeze washed over them.

She smelled of saltwater, spices, summer strawberries and champagne. He could feel the cool carpet of grass between his toes and the gentle beating of her heart against his chest.

"Oh, come and stir my cauldron..." Her voice was smooth and quiet as she sang along with the song. "And if you do it right, I'll boil you up some hot, strong, love," her breath tickled his neck but he did not flinch, "to keep you warm tonight."

She sang the rest of the song lightly against his neck and when the song ended he found he was not quite ready to let go of her. He held her to him, and she lifted her head to look inquiringly at him.

Her eyes were soft and inviting and he felt his self-restraint slipping. The wall he had built around his heart, so tall and so thick, was crumbling and he was helpless to stop it.

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly.

"Ready?" she asked, pulling back and moving to gather their blanket.

"Yes, I suppose."

He let his hands fall from her waist and helped her fold the blanket.

"Are you doing anything tomorrow?" he asked, draping his arm across her shoulders as they joined the queue heading away from the stage.

"No," she answered.

"Can we Disapparate from here? Do you know?"

"Yes, I think so, why?"

"Stay with me tonight."

"What?"

"There's no one home right now except for me. Stay with me," he wasn't asking, exactly, but he did not care. He would be damned if went home and did nothing but dream of her. Again.

"Okay."

"Listen, I refuse to – " he started, before realizing she had agreed. He blinked at her. "Okay?"

"Okay," she repeated, grinning. "If I had an apartment I would have already had you back there." She winked at him then and he pulled her to him, turning on the spot.

She was crushing his lips to hers when they arrived in the foyer of Malfoy Manor and she let the picnic basket fall to the floor with a loud thump.

"So you _were_ trying to seduce me?" he breathed, pulling away enough to pick her up.

She wrapped her legs around his middle and allowed him to carry her up the staircase. She nibbled his ear lightly when he got to the top of the stairs and was hardly surprised that he stopped just outside his room to push her against the door and kiss her fiercely.

She fumbled behind her for the doorknob and smiled against his lips when he stumbled into the room. He crossed the room in three quick strides and they fell on the bed, a tangle of limbs and clothes.

"It worked, didn't it?" she sighed as he growled his agreement and pulled her dress above her head….

* * *

_I've been asleep for a while now_

_You tucked me in just like a child now_

_Cause every time you hold me in your arms_

_I'm comfortable enough to feel your warmth  
_

* * *

He woke the next morning warm and comfortable, sunlight streaming through his window. He turned his head to the side and saw that she was still curled up against him. He watched her sleep for a moment and was soothed by her steady breathing and the gentle rise and fall of her chest. She stirred then, scooted deeper into the blankets and wrapped her small arms tighter around his back. She lifted her head from his shoulder and dropped a soft kiss on his nose. 

"I don't want to get up yet," she mumbled against his chest. She sighed dreamily. "Let's go back to sleep."

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, unable to suppress the strange feelings surging through him, and nestled closer against her before drifting back into a pleasant sleep.

* * *

_It starts in my soul_

_And I lose all control_

_When you kiss my nose_

_The feeling shows_

_Cause you make me smile_

_Baby, just take your time now_

_Holding me tight  
_

* * *

**A/N: Ah, another sweet, sappy chapter. I promise there's more steamy love on the way, I just wanted to establish that there's more to their relationship than that. You know? What did you think of their date?  
**

**Again, I forgot to list last chapter's song!! Sorry!! I suck at this. It was "I Radio Heaven" by Over the Rhine. This chapter is "Bubbly" by Colbie Caillat. I adore the song and think it goes well with this summer love themed chapter.**

**  
What do you guys think? Was the chapter too cheesy? **

**  
Reviews are ALWAYS welcome!!!**

* * *


	12. Pulling Moonlight Down

A/N: Would it help if I apologized PROFOUSLY and begged your forgiveness, dear readers, for my ridiculously long absence?

I'm really, really, really sorry it's taken so very long to update. I would list some really good excuses, but it's not important now. All I can do is offer up a new chapter (and a really long one at that) and hope you have not abandoned me. Because no matter how long it takes, this story WILL BE COMPLETED in due time, I promise. I've already spent quite a lot of time with the plot and the ending (I've decided to add an epilogue, the idea of which I'm really pleased with.)

Anyway, sorry for taking so long, enjoy the new chapter and REVIEW! 3!

This chapters song "The Seahorse" by Over the Rhine.

* * *

Exert from the end of Chapter 11 (in case you forgot): 

_She lifted her head from his shoulder and dropped a soft kiss on his nose. _

"_I don't want to get up yet," she mumbled against his chest. She sighed dreamily. "Let's go back to sleep." _

_He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, unable to suppress the strange feelings surging through him, and nestled closer against her before drifting back into a pleasant sleep._

* * *

Chapter 12 "Pulling Moonlight Down"

* * *

"Ginny?" 

Silence.

"Ginny, can you hear me?"

Silence.

"Ginny? Ginevra Molly Weasley, you aren't listening!"

Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Ginny's nose and let out of sigh of exasperation as the red-head finally made eye contact.

"Sorry, 'Mione," Ginny apologized, reaching for her glass and taking a sip of water to give her hands something to do.

"Where were you just now?" Hermione was looking at her curiously.

"No where." Which was a lie. ""What were you saying?" She had been reminiscing about that morning when she had woken just in time to see Draco make his morning trek from the shower to his closet, clad in nothing but a dark green towel. Oh, how she enjoyed watching the water cling to his toned torso and drip in curving trails down his back.

It had been two weeks since the Weird Sisters concert and he had refused to sleep alone during the weekends. She had taken to telling her family she was helping Neville work on his new gallery.

"I was saying that I think I'll change the color of your dress to lavender. That beige did nothing for your skin."

Hermione had insisted Ginny be her maid of honor, and seeing as how the wedding was less than two months away, it was time to start putting the finishing touches on the plans.

Ginny finished off her lunch and tried to listen as Hermione prattled on about wedding details, but found that her mind kept wandering back to a certain blonde and the things he could do with his tong –

"That's it!" Hermione said, rather sharply. "Ginny, you haven't heard a word I've said about flowers and seating arrangements. The only response I get from you is that glossy-eyed stare!" She seized her water glass and downed the contents. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were fantasizing about a man."

"That's ridiculous," Ginny replied, a little too quickly, for Hermione's keen eyes quickly identified the pale blush creeping up Ginny's neck.

"Out with it."

"Out with what?"

"Ginny you look like Crookshanks whenever he'd just devoured a mouse. Who have you been devouring? " Hermione asked.

Ginny kept her mouth tightly clamped as she felt her face burning.

"Fine, if you don't want to say, I understand," Hermione said, signaling to the server that they were finished and ready for the bill. "I mean, I only trust you with my life. I've only told you all of my most juicy secrets since we were at Hogw -- "

"Since when have you had juicy secrets?"

Hermione "harumped" loudly and crossed her arms across her chest.

"Oh, alright. I'm seeing someone." Herminone's head snapped up and her eyes bore into Ginny's. "Happy?" Ginny spat.

"That depends. Are you happy?" Hermione asked. Her anger had quickly been replaced with concern.

Ginny thought of the way Draco made her feel; safe and warm and wanted. Years ago she would never have used those words in relation to a Malfoy, but the man she knew now, the man she wanted to spend every waking hour with, was nothing at all like the cruel and power-hungry boy she once knew.

"Yes, I'm happy. Actually, I can't remember when I've been more happy," Ginny admitted, smiling broadly.

"Oh Ginny, I'm so glad." Hermione reached across the table and squeezed Ginny's hand lightly. "Who is he? Do I know him?"

Ginny was momentarily saved from answering when the server stepped up to their table and deposited the bill.

"I've got it," Ginny said, reaching into her bag and extracting the appropriate amount. She handed the money to the server and told him to keep the change.

"So?" Hermione asked when they were outside the restaurant and fighting their way through the bustling crowds of Diagon Alley. "Who is he?"

Ginny had just spotted Bill standing on the steps in front of Gringotts searching the crowd for her. Praising her luck, she turned to Hermione.

"We had so much fun at lunch I didn't realize I was late." She hugged Hermione briefly before waving at Bill and heading towards the bank. "I promise to tell you all the details really soon, 'Mione. Floo me later!"

She climbed the steps quickly, trying to push Hermione's shocked and confused look out of her mind. She really was late; the stern look on Bill's face assured her that.

As she stepped into the cool darkness of the bank, she promised herself she really would tell Hermione about Draco.

Eventually.

* * *

Wait till after dark.

Open up the ceiling, we'll be kneeling,

We'll be breathing on a spark.

* * *

He sat very straight, his back rigid, and his long pale fingers drummed impatient cadences on the crisp linen tablecloth. 

She was late -- yet again -- and he wondered absently why the acknowledgement still surprised him.

He kept his gaze on the door, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable in the Muggle establishment she had insisted upon. The Friday evening rush was just starting and the small bistro was filling quickly.

He sneered again as the server approached him and asked if he would like anything to drink while he waited. Draco, trying, and failing, to remain polite, ordered two glasses of red wine.

The cool liquid had just touched his lips when he sensed her presence behind him. He replaced the glass back on the table and leaned back as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

"I know I'm late, but I'm not apologizing," she whispered, her hair falling forward and brushing against his face. Her lips were nearly touching his ear. He moved his head to reply, but stopped when he felt her tongue dart out and suck the delicate lobe of his ear between her lips. He tried not to sigh as she swirled her tongue once, released his ear and blew a puff of cool air onto the damp surface. "But I will make it up to you later."

He was glad that he was not taken a drink of the wine, sure that it would have been splattered across the table after her wonderfully evil teasing.

His eyes were darker than usual when she settled herself in the chair across from him.

"If you promise to greet me like that, you can be late whenever you like," he murmured, feeling his previous irritation ebb away when the smile he adored so much lit her face.

"I could tell from your stiff posture that you were being your usual impatient self," she said, smiling.

She opened the menu and her eyes began scanning the items.

"But you, my dear, are," he glanced at his wristwatch, "eight minutes late."

"And you, my dear, are far too uptight sometimes." She closed the menu and looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with humor. "Bill kept trying to persuade me to come to dinner at the Burrow tonight and I had a little trouble fabricating a good excuse. There are only so many wedding things I can pretend to do with Hermione, you know."

He had a determined look on his face and he had a feeling Ginny would know where this was going.

"Then why bother fabricating anything at all? Why not just tell him you had a dinner date with a dashing young man who enjoys your company quite a lot?"

She sighed, seemingly searching for the right words.

"So should I also include the tiny detail that the, what was it, 'dashing young man,' was also the bane of Harry Potter's existence during his already-troubled childhood? And that the same charming young man is shagging the sister of Mr. Potter's best friend?"

"Shagging her senseless would be more accurate." He smirked haughtily and he noticed her mouth twitching as she fought to repress a smile.

After all, he had a point.

"That's irrelevant, or have you forgotten how many brothers I have?" She asked, leaning forward, her playful eyes challenging him, trying to keep the conversation light. "Not to mention the entire shop full of excellent, although admittedly painful, products that certain twins would not be above using on such a dashing gentleman."

"What do you mean 'irrelevant'?" he asked in an astonished whisper. "Are you saying you don't enjoy our shaggi --"

"Have you made a decision?"

The server had appeared unnoticed by either and Ginny giggled behind her hand as Draco, straining not to blush, straightened and placed his order.

"I'll have the same, thank you," Ginny told the waiter, still grinning as he took the menus and disappeared.

She tried not to laugh again when she noticed that Draco had folded his arms across his chest and was leaning back in his seat, a distinctly sour look on his face.

"Pouting is not a good look on you," she declared, grinning when he turned his scornful gaze upon her. He remained silent and she sighed. "You know good and well that I enjoy our shagging. In fact, 'enjoy' is probably a vast understatement." She didn't miss the smirk flicker across his face. "So stop pouting; your ego is not in need of stroking."

He opened his mouth, fully prepared to inform her there was something in need of stroking, but closed it tightly when he caught site of the daring look on her face.

"How was your day?" he asked instead, reaching for his wine and taking a slow sip.

"Alright, I suppose," she answered. "This witch came in right before closing, trying to withdraw her entire savings. That's why I was late. Did you know it's nearly impossible to empty your vault? It was a load of paperwork, and questions about mental stability and…"

They fell into a comfortable dialogue about work and the latest in wizarding gossip, the easy banter weaving in and out of the light conversation. It was over dessert that the discussion got truly interesting.

Neville had recently told Ginny about a Muggle bloke he knew from Germany who had been married nearly 5 years before finding out his "wife" had been a man.

Ginny laughed lightly at the conclusion of the story but Draco looked incredulous.

"He had no idea? None at all?"

"I'm afraid not," Ginny replied.

"What about when they, well…"

"I suppose Muggles are really good at…removing things."

Draco visibly cringed.

"There isn't, anything, you need to tell me, is there?" he asked, his face serious.

"What? Of course not! I am not, nor have I ever been, anything but a woman. Well.." she answered, fighting not to laugh as she hesitated. "And a witch," she added, laughing again as relief flooded his face.

"There isn't anything you need to tell me, is there?" she asked.

He tensed suddenly, and the laughter faded from her face.

"Nothing like that," he said quickly. He looked away, gathering his thoughts and making a decision. "I did have you investigated."

"What?" She looked shocked, but not as much as he had expected.

"After that incident in Gringotts," he explained, hoping she would not press him for more, but she was looking at him questioningly so he continued. "I hadn't seen you in years, and the girl I remembered from school was certainly not the woman you had proved yourself to be that night." He paused, recalling how embarrassed and aroused he had been when she'd disarmed him. "You were beautiful, strong, independent and fierce. I wanted to know more about you." He gazed at her intently, hoping his eyes conveyed the sincere apology he felt. He realized now it had been an invasion of her privacy and something he had no right to do. "I hope you aren't angry with me."

"I'm actually kind of flattered," she laughed, shaking her head, seemingly amazed at her under reaction. "I should be mad or disturbed, but I'm not."

His face relaxed and he leaned forward, reaching his hand across the table. He turned his palm up and she let her hand fall gently onto his.

"So what elaborate scheme do you have planned for us this weekend?" he asked.

They had spent the past couple weeks indulging her spontaneity. She would show up at the manor Friday afternoon or evening and declare they were going on another picnic, or sailing, or hiking around the mountains, or having afternoon tea (which, he recalled with a grimace, she had neglected to tell him was at Madame Puddifoot's in Hogsmeade until it was far too late.) The last adventure, the only purpose of which had been to torture Draco for a quip about Ginny being too feminine, had been last weekend.

She smiled and let her fingers trace mindless patterns on his open palm.

The server appeared again with the check and Draco moved his hand to pay.

They exited the restaurant in silence and set off down the busy London street. The sun had just set, but the air was still thick with summer humidity. Already Draco was regretting wearing the suit jacket over his black button-up. They had Apparated to a designated spot two blocks away and were heading back in the general direction when he reached for her hand in the darkness.

"So? Our plans?"

"Oh, it's nothing really. And the weather has to cooperate or else we'll just have to stay at home."

He grinned broadly.

"You know, spending the weekend in bed doesn't sound bad at all. This may be your best idea yet."

She scowled at him but he simply grinned and pulled her to him. They were near the Disapparation spot and had just passed outside of the glaring brightness of a street lamp. He backed her deeper into the shadows of two large, dark buildings.

"I believe it's been far too long since I've kissed you," he whispered.

She smiled before tangling her hands in his hair and pulling his head down to hers.

Her lips were warm against his and he felt a heat that had nothing to do with the weather flush his body. He pressed her closer, pinning her to the wall and he cold feel the scrape of the bricks on the back of his hands.

His arms were draped around her waist, pushing her hips into his when he ran his tongue along her bottom lips. She shivered as a cool blast of wind whipped around them at the same time his tongue swirled around hers. The contrasting sensation of her warmth and the rapidly changing air was exhilarating.

She deepened the kiss, opening her mouth more and thrusting her tongue against his. He moaned at the intoxicating feel of her, not quite sure if it was the lingering wine on her breath or simply the way she felt in his arms.

He moved his hands under the back of her shirt and let his fingers brush over the impossibly smooth skin of her back, smiling against her lips when she sighed and leaned into his touch. The wind was picking up and lashing his jacket around behind him. He had just decided a more private venue was in order when a deafening crack of thunder shook the ground beneath them.

She pulled away, startled at the noise, and then smiled brightly.

He tried to protest as she untangled herself from his arms but stopped when she pulled her wand from a pocket.

"It looks like the weather is going to cooperate after all," she stated, reaching for his hand. The wind was whipping roughly around them making her hair dance around her face like the crackling flames of a fire. "As long as it doesn't start lightening we should be fine."

He looked at her inquiringly, wondering what on earth she had planned that depended on a summer thunderstorm.

She simply grinned and pulled him to her, Disapparating them away before he could question her further.

* * *

They arrived on the crest of one of the mountains that bordered the village near her home. 

He squinted down into the darkness as she fumbled in her purse for something. He knew by now that patience was his best defense against her scheming. He could just make out the shimmering lights of what he knew to be Ottery St. Catchpole in the distance.

"We're not going to meet the family, are we?" he asked, anxiety flooding his body.

He glanced down at his disheveled appearance and started straightening his clothes at once.

"No, silly, we aren't going to my house," she answered.

She had not yet located whatever it was she was searching for and had now kneeled down, spilling the contents of her bag upon the grass.

"Where are we going exactly?"

"Here," was all she answered, turning the purse upside down and shaking everything out.

"Here? But," he glanced at his watch again, "it's after 10 p.m. Should we even be up here?"

"Yes, it's fine. I used to come up here all the time just before a storm. No one will find us because they won't want to make the journey down the hill once it starts raining," she mumbled, not looking at him. She was searching through the various items littering the ground now, alternately holding them up to examine them more closely. "Aha! Now where's the other one?" she garbled, gently laying something beside her wand on the ground.

He shook his head and looked around, watching as the trees swayed in the strong wind. He buttoned his coat against the cooler air.

"Yes!" she declared suddenly, making him jump slightly.

She was clutching something triumphantly in her hand, hastily shoving everything back into her bag. When she had refastened the clasp, she stood, grasping her wand from where she had let it fall beside her. She shrunk her bag and tucked it into her jeans pocket before setting the other object on the ground and pointing her wand at it.

Draco squinted in the darkness, trying to decide what it was when she mumbled a spell and the item began growing to what he supposed was it's actual size.

"Kites?" he asked, bewildered. "All that for a couple Muggle toys?"

"Have you ever flown a kite?" she asked, raising her eyebrows curiously.

"That's beside the point."

He could see her eyes mocking him in the moonlight and knew she was suppressing whatever biting comeback she had thought of.

Instead, she picked up one of the kites and handed it to him. He held it awkwardly in his hands for a moment, wondering what he was supposed to be doing.

She smirked at him lightly before picking up the other kite. She held the spool of twine securely in her left hand and clasped the underside of the kite's framework in her right hand. She waited while he mimicked her actions, then, before he could ask her how they were supposed to get the strange-looking contraption into the sky, she set off running in a wide circle around the summit of the mountain, holding the kite high above her head.

He realized vaguely that she intended him to follow, to imitate her run, but he was frozen to the spot.

The soft glow of the moon made her already pale skin glow spectacularly. The white of her face and neck contrasted magnificently with the brilliant red glimmering of her hair as the wind and her running whipped the shimmering locks around her shoulders. He stood rooted to the spot, mesmerized by the beauty of her, watching her long, elegant strides and smiling face.

She was on the opposite side of the clearing when she threw the kite ahead of her and a stout gust of wind picked it up, sending it swiftly skyward. She stopped suddenly and held the spool so that it unraveled as quickly as the wind was carrying the kite upward.

Once the kite was high enough, she secured the twine and turned to him, smiling broadly.

"Your turn," she called.

He nodded, grimacing at the thought of running, and gripped the kite tightly in his hands. He held the frame up above his head as Ginny had demonstrated and set off at a jog in much the same path she had taken. He felt the wind blowing at his back and threw the kite outward.

The wind died down instantaneously and he frowned as the kite crashed clumsily to the ground.

"Not as easy as it looks, it is?" she called from between boisterous peals of laughter. She was holding the spool out before her, her kite dancing intricate patterns across the starry sky. She followed his line of vision and grinned smugly.

It took him three more tries before his kite finally made it into the air.

"Remind me not to be so eager the next time you suggest something so '_fun_,'" he called over his shoulder, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

They were standing with their backs facing, about 15 meters apart. She laughed lightly and tugged the string of her kite, making it loop down towards the ground before shooting skyward.

They had not spotted any lightening or rain, but the wind was gusting vigorously and the sound of thunder was growing closer.

He turned back around, watching as his kite flapped and whipped about in the wind. He caught site of the nearly-full moon then and was startled at how close it seemed. It looked almost as if he could reach out and touch it; grab it from the sky and hold it in his palm. He lifted his hand and found that the glowing orb was so close and so big he could not hide it behind his thumb as he had done as a child.

He heard a tinkling laugh and turned to find himself gazing at her face. She had maneuvered her kite so that they were side by side and he took an instinctive step towards her. At this proximity her skin glowed even more and he could not resist the urge to touch her, afraid she might not be a dream.

"You look like you're wearing the moonlight," he whispered, before reaching out and tracing the curve of her cheekbone.

She leaned into his hand as he let it rest on her cheek before pulling her face to his.

* * *

Flying kites at midnight,

Such a dizzy height.

Up above the small town,

Pulling moonlight down and wearing it skin tight.

* * *

He didn't remember dropping his kite, or pulling her flush against him. All he knew was that the dreamlike sensation of the moment -- the moonlight and the approaching storm and the way the combination transformed Ginny into a breathtakingly beautiful creature -- was undeniable. The air around them was thick with electricity and he did not care if it was from the storm or their magic. All he could think to do was press his lips against hers, afraid that if he did not touch her, did not verify her existence, she would be gone from him and this moment would have passed. 

His fingers knotted in her hair and she opened her mouth in a gasp. He heard the thump of her kite's spool behind him before her arms were around his waist. They made quick work of their clothes and shoes, tossing things haphazardly around the blanket of grass at their feet, never breaking contact.

She sank to the ground then, pulling him with her and he slowed the pace as she settled back against the grass.

He pressed his lips against her neck, tracing a slow pattern on her collarbone with his tongue, but stopped when he felt her wince.

"Wait," she breathed.

He pulled back and watched as she lifted her hips and pulled a jagged rock from under her bottom. She tossed it to the side, smiling sheepishly, as his mouth descended to her breasts. As his tongue alternated between swirling and gently biting her hard nipples, he felt certain she had forgotten the pain of the rock.

A fat drop of rain splattered spectacularly on the smooth skin between her breasts and he thoughtlessly moved to lick the water away. She was whispering nonsensical nothings, urging him on as his head moved lower, hovering over her belly button.

He moved his hands from her waist and let them slide down her body, moving over her inner thighs and gently pushing her legs apart.

He dipped his head impulsively and ran his tongue along her folds, pausing to suck roughly on the most sensitive spot. He heard her mumble a string of curses and glanced up. He gasped, feeling all the blood in his body plummet to his groin.

He had never seen a woman look so…_wanton_.

She was panting; her back arched up towards him, and her head was thrown back, sending a cascade of fiery red curls across the grass. She gazed down at him then, realizing he had stopped, and the look in her eyes threatened murder if he did not continue.

Immediately.

He smirked, but lowered his head swiftly. He smiled against her silky skin, continuing his slow, methodical exploration of her. He sporadically sucked and nipped her in the places that made her moan and growl and demand more.

She nearly shrieked when he slipped a finger inside her. She tangled a hand in his hair, holding him in place as he sucked her sensitive spot and curled his finger inside her, hitting the place that had her gasping for air. He kept up his pace, adjusting his erection a little so as to stop it from touching anything; he had never been so aroused simply by pleasuring someone else.

He was sure she was on the brink of exploding when he was able to comprehend that she was gently attempting to pull his head away. He stopped and looked up at her, confusion etched on his porcelain face.

"I want you, all of you, now," she choked out, lying back as he moved up her body, placing his palms on either side of her head.

She pulled his face down to touch her lips to his and the thought of her tasting herself on his lips had him crushing her to him in a searing hot kiss. It was several minutes before they broke apart, but he knew he could wait no longer.

His eyes found hers and they held their gaze as he slid into her, almost painfully slow, wanting to draw out the moment as long as he could. He repeated the unhurried movement again, and reached between them to brush his thumb over her most sensitive area, smiling as she groaned loudly, her eyes nearly black with arousal.

This was different; slower, gentler and as she wrapped her legs around his back, pushing him deeper inside, he knew it would be better.

They continued the slow, tediously delicate movements and he could feel his orgasm building more powerfully than ever. His pace quickened slightly and a few more hard thrusts later he felt her tighten suddenly around him.

She breathed his name and that was all it took for him to release inside her, exploding with such force he was unable to distinguish the stars before his eyes and the stars in the night sky.

They had collapsed, panting and tangled heavily around each other, when he felt another drop of rain splatter coldly on his flushed back. He did not flinch, but welcomed the coolness. He disentangled himself enough to roll on his side and pull her to him.

She mumbled something incoherent, and then stopped, looking up into his eyes.

"You ok?" he whispered, brushing a few blades of grass from her back.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," she replied quietly. "More than fine."

She reached her small hand up and pushed a lock of his pale hair behind his ear.

His chest tightened slightly when she let her hand rest in the crook of his neck. Her thumb was delicately rubbing gentle circles at the base of his throat and she was gazing at the movement when he realized she seemed to be trying to say something.

He waited patiently, propped up on his elbow with his other hand resting at the small of her back.

"You feel…" she trailed off, her voice barely more than a whisper. He moved his hand from her back and tilted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "You feel like…"

"Home?" he finished, shocked at his answer, but knowing instantly that it was true.

He searched her eyes carefully, looking for signs that she did not agree. Her warm brown eyes softened and he could see the smile in them before her lips moved.

"Yes," she whispered. "Like home. Isn't that silly?"

He rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of his so that her head was resting just below his chin.

"No, it's not silly at all."

"I put in for a transfer," she said in a quick breath. He could not stop his body from tensing. He was silent, sure that if he spoke his voice would betray him. "For a desk job. At Gringotts," she finished. He exhaled loudly, unaware he had stopped breathing.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious now. "I thought you liked traveling? I thought it made you happy?"

"I do love traveling and it did make me happy," she said. "But I realized very recently that I was searching, looking for something more, and I think I've found it." She lifted her head to look into his eyes and he was overcome with the affection he saw shining from them. "I think I've found something that makes me infinitely happier." She dropped a kiss on his lips, lingering for a moment, before settling back down on his chest. "I've also been looking for an apartment. I'd rather hang around for as long as I'm wanted."

"Looks like you'll be stuck here for quite a long while, then," he muttered, pulling his arms tighter around her, relief flooding his mind.

He was staring at the twinkling stars, losing track of time and space as he breathed in the scent of her shampoo and their love-making. He could not recall a time when he had felt more at peace with himself and the world at large. He felt so comfortable, relaxed and, he would never admit it aloud, complete.

It was only when the raindrops were consistently falling that they moved to grab their clothes. He pulled on his trousers and shirt while he watched her, pleased to see her looking so ravished. Her hair was tousled and her face still flushed. He fastened a few buttons on his shirt, draped his jacket over his arm and tugged her to him for a lingering kiss. Their hair was damp from the rain when she pulled away, slipping her shoes on as he pulled out his wand.

"I don't know why you bothered re-dressing," he said, pulling her into his arms and preparing to Disapparate. "I'm just going to remove it all as soon as we get back to the Manor."

She giggled quietly as they disappeared, the rain pounding their discarded kites into the rapidly-forming mud.

* * *

Suddenly I'm weightless.

Gravity is mine.

I see it with my eyes closed,

What my heart knows.

* * *

Ginny had been sleeping peacefully in his embrace for several hours when she stirred. 

She registered coolness and woke suddenly when she felt his pressure leave the bed. She pushed a jumbled mass of hair from her eyes and squinted into the darkness.

A faint noise drew her attention to his desk in the opposite corner of the room. Draco was standing with his back to her beside the desk where a large black owl blinked at her ominously before swooping back out through the open window.

"Draco?" she whispered. He turned and she saw he had a small bit of parchment crushed in his hand. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine," he smiled, but even in the darkness she registered that it was strained. "There's a problem at the office." He moved to pull a long black robe on over his trousers. "Seems I've forgotten to sign some paperwork and we can't proceed with the shipment until it's taken care of."

She nodded, feeling only somewhat relieved that no one was in immediate danger. She watched as he buttoned his robe and slipped on expensive-looking black shoes, wondering why she had not inquired more about what he did at Malfoy Inc. He straightened and crossed the room to close the window before she spoke again.

"Should I go home or…" she trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward.

"No, I'll be back as soon as I can, and certainly before dawn," he replied, moving to the bed to kiss her lips swiftly. He lingered over her, reluctant to leave, and Ginny pulled him back for another fierce kiss. "Go back to sleep and I'll see you very soon," he whispered, slipping from the room soundlessly.

* * *

I can always tell you,

Anything at all.

Break the alabaster,

Hearts beat faster…

* * *

She did not remember going to sleep again, but a gentle tapping at the window had woken her again. It was still dark and she was disoriented for a moment before remembering the noise. 

She looked towards the window and saw another owl perched on the sill, this one a tawny brown. She pushed back the covers, thinking it was word that Draco had been detained, and padded over to let the creature inside. She looked around for a treat, but, seeing none, shrugged at the bird and took the note from its beak. She saw that the letter was indeed addressed to her and tore it open. She recognized the handwriting at once, but crinkled her brow in confusion.

It was from Harry, explaining that he had just had a tip about another secret meeting somewhere in Eastern Europe. The letter explained that he was headed there now with Ron to investigate and asked if she would come in to the Ministry the following afternoon to go over the report.

She felt a surge of excitement that they were finally getting somewhere in this case; it had been a long while since Harry had last had a lead. She saw that the owl was waiting for a reply so she made her way to Draco's desk and scribbled a quick note. She would meet Harry tomorrow and, with a little luck, they would be able to apprehend the rallying Death Eaters very soon.

She'd just sent the owl off with her reply when she heard a noise from the doorway.

Draco was standing there, stock still, looking exhausted and confused.

"Ginny, what were you doing?" He stared at her questioningly.

She did not hesitate in her lie, knowing her assistance in the Auror matter was private and she could get a lot of people in serious trouble if someone found out.

"I was still awake, and I just remembered, I forgot to tell Hermione I received word from her aunt and uncle that they'll be coming in from France a week before the wedding," she replied, replacing the lid on the inkwell and stepping back towards the bed. "She'll need to floo the Inn tomorrow and make arrangements before it fills up." She slid back into the bed, convinced he had believed her lie. She watched as his face relaxed and he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his clothing. "Is everything alright at work?"

"Yes, everything's fine now," he answered, his back still to her.

She reached out to him, brushed her fingers against the naked skin of his back and smiled as he slid in beside her.

She settled comfortably in his arms again and listened to his steady breathing until she fell asleep.

* * *

You can always tell me,

Anything at all.

Think of all the times

You've let my lips move, yeah, yeah, yeah…

* * *

A/N:

Sorry if there are lots of typos and mistakes. I only had time to read through it once. I wanted to post it as soon as possible and I'm going out of town tonight, so it was now or Monday.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I think the story is really starting to get pretty good, but I'm honestly a tad biased.

Anyway, have a terrific weekend and leave lots of reviews!!!

* * *


	13. Summersong

Chapter 13 – "Summersong"

**A/N: It's been what? How many months? I'm really, really sorry. I've been thinking about the story a lot, I just haven't had time to sit down and write anything. I've switched jobs twice in the past couple months. It's been a bit crazy. But I'm hoping I can get settled and find more time to write. I'm so excited about future chapters of this story, I need to push through this difficult part.**

**So I know it's sort of the middle of winter (at least in my part of the world), but I've been so preoccupied with other stuff, my story timeline is still stuck in late summer. I guess this isn't a bad thing, just use your imagination and I promise we'll get to the cooler weather soon.**

**Also, I'm nearly finished with the next chapter, so expect it sometime this week or next. **

**Anyway, enough drabble. This chapter's song is: The Decemberists "Summersong."**

* * *

_Rambling, where to begin?_

_I taste the summer on your peppery skin._

_Been saved, the warm of the waves…_

* * *

Ginny pulled the brim of the straw hat lower over her forehead and crinkled her nose at the sun's offending glare.

She wiggled in her chair, pushing it deeper into the sand and let her legs stretch out in front of her. She pushed her toes into the sand, wiggling until she felt the coolness of the coarse grains not baking in the sun.

"I don't think I ever remember August being so bloody hot."

She was quiet, smiling under the shade of her hat, trying not to take so much pleasure in his discomfort.

"But darling, I believe a trip to the seashore was your idea," she giggled, peeking at him from under the hat.

Draco was lying on his stomach, a bright blue towel underneath him. He had coerced her into lathering him in sunscreen, but already she could see his pale back glowing pink.

"Well, that was before I realized it was so blasted hot," he huffed, wiping a line of sweat from his forehead.

"Don't forget how pathetically pale we both are," she said, pulling up her hat so that she could make a fuss of shielding her eyes from the glare of his white skin. He sat up in a huff, while she laughed at his angry glare.

"I'm no paler than you, _darling,_" he drawled, tossing a fistful of sand onto her legs.

The combination of sunscreen and sweat made the sand cake onto her calves.

"That's it, I'm getting in the water." She stood and let her hat fall into the chair. She let her sunglasses fall on top of it before turning towards the ocean. "And I don't care if it's been half an hour since lunch or not," she called over her shoulder, kicking a bit of sand onto his sweaty back and side.

She heard Draco gasp and she took off at a jog down the beach towards the water, laughing. She ran into the crashing waves, shrieking with joy as the cold water rushed over her shins and Draco wrapped his arms around her from behind, smearing the sand and sweat mix across her back.

"Oh!" She gasped, struggling to turn around and face her attacker. "You're rotten!"

"Me?" he retorted, loosening his grip enough so that she could turn and face him. "You started it."

She opened her mouth to reply when he pulled her to him tightly, paying no attention to a large wave that crashed right on them. The force of the water knocked them both down, and washed over them completely.

She was struggling to stand again when she felt him pulling her upwards.

"Very mature, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, pushing her sopping hair from her face and trying to wipe the saltwater from her eyes. He swirled them around in the waves and began dragging her out into deeper water. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We have to get out of these breaking waves. And, we're dirty," he said, moving his hand to wipe at a streak of wet sand that had somehow stuck between her breasts. "I think we should wash off a bit."

"Oh, no you don't," she replied, pulling his hand away and holding it securely in hers. "This is a public beach, and you will not have me participate in any sort of indecent behavior."

They were now in water that just covered her breasts. He pulled the hand she still held so that she was reluctantly embracing him. "Like that time we made love on that hilltop? In public? Near your house?"

She blushed fiercely and focused her attention back towards the beach. He leaned his head down to kiss the spot where her shoulder met her neck. She reluctantly relaxed into his embrace.

"Touché, Malfoy," she sighed, leaning against him, "Touché."

"While you're acknowledging my superiority, I'd also like to point out that _my_ spontaneous trip seems to be going over quite well."

She didn't have to lift her head from his chest to know he was smirking.

"Yes, well, can I help it I don't own a summer house in Greece?"

He laughed lightly and lifted his hand to drip water over her shoulders and across her cleavage, washing away the sand.

"No, I suppose I did have a small advantage."

"I'd say a fully furnished house with a private beach is a bit more than a _small advantage_," she replied, her voice dripping with insincere sarcasm.

"Just one of the perks to dating a Malfoy." She could hear a touch of his arrogant drawl laced in the deep baritone of his voice and was startled to realize it sounded foreign to her.

"Just one? How many perks are there?" She was smiling against his chest, breathing in the smell of saltwater and sunscreen on his warm skin.

"Far too many to list today, dear," he answered, tugging a strand of her hair just enough that she lifted her head to glare at him. "But this is another one," he breathed, leaning down to brush his lips against hers.

The kiss was sweet, gentle and slow, as if they had the rest of the year to go on kissing. When he pulled away, she smiled at him and his smirk was bigger than before, she was sure.

"You call that a perk?" she smile, taking a step away from him. "Why, I could make you a list of old Hogwarts mates that kiss better than that." The comment had wiped the smirk from his face and she couldn't hole back that laughter.

"Like who?" He lunged at her, laughing mockingly, but she was already dredging her way back towards the beach.

"Seamus, for starters," she called over her shoulder. His hand was on her elbow, but he stopped suddenly, his jaw clenched tightly. "And then there's Hermione and Mich - "

"Hermione?!" His eyes were wide with shock and he had dropped her arm.

She let out a shriek of laughter and took off again. "Just kidding!"

She had collapsed, giggling hysterically, back on her beach chair by the time he caught back up with her.

"I'll get you for that later, mark my words," he said, sitting on the edge of her chair and dripping water on her hat.

"Consider them marked," she mocked, snickering until he leaned down and kissed her again.

* * *

_My girl, linen and curls,_

_Lips parting like a flag all unfurled._

_She's grand, the bend of her hand,_

_Digging deep into the sweep of the sand._

* * *

Ginny was dreaming pleasantly when the loud crash of a door slamming woke her. She reached her hand out to Draco instinctively, but the spot where he had been lying when they fell asleep was empty.

She opened her eyes timidly, and immediately registered a green glow shining from underneath the door that lead into the study.

"Yes, of course. I'll be there in ten minutes." Even in her sleep-fogged stupor she recognized Draco's voice. It had been well after midnight when they had gone to bed, and she wondered vaguely who would be Flooing him at this time of the night.

The green light of the fireplace disappeared before she heard him shout.

"Dammit!"

She opened her eyes wide when she heard him swear, but closed them tightly when the study door swung open.

She listened to his footsteps and knew from the ragged sound of his breathing that he was upset. She heard him open a drawer in the writing desk next to the bed. He shuffled around for a moment, then she identified the distinct sounds of him unscrewing the cap from the inkwell and the scratching of his quill on parchment. He murmured a smell and she surmised that he must have his wand.

When she felt him sink onto the edge of the bed, she lay perfectly still, trying desperately to maintain the steady breathing of someone supposed to be sleeping.

She felt him lean towards her, and the warmth of his breath on her face made her skin tingle.

"I'm sorry, love," he whispered, dropping a feathery light kiss on her forehead. "I'll explain it all to you someday, I promise I will." His lips lingered on her skin, and she could hear the pleading in his voice.

It was lucky timing that he moved from the bed as soon as he had spoken, because she had broken the steadiness of her breathing. In fact, she forgot to breathe again until she heard him moving in the closet, pulling on proper clothing.

She did not move until she heard the sound of his disapparation.

"Lumos," she whispered, and the bedside lamp was suddenly glowing. She sat up and at once noticed that he had left something on the pillow beside her; a note and a bright orange tiger lily.

"That must have been what he was writing," she muttered to herself, unfolding the note and scanning it quickly.

_Ginny,_

_Forgive me, but I've had an urgent Floo call from the office. You have my word that I'll return by morning. _

_Also, I forgot to mention it to you earlier, but I spoke with a realtor last week, after you mentioned how you wanted to start looking for an apartment. If you like, we can meet with him tomorrow afternoon in London. _

_Draco_

She folded the note and placed it on the bedside table, a hundred thoughts careening crowding her mind.

Another middle-of-the-night call from work? This was the third time in little more than a month.

She was unsure how long she lay curled in the blankets, mulling things over, when she heard the sound of his return. She pretended to be asleep as she listened to him quietly undressing, only moving when she felt him slid into the bed with her.

She curved her body beside his and lifted her arm to lay across him bare chest.

"Is everything in order?" she whispered, sighing as she felt his arms slide around her shoulders.

"Yes," he breathed. Then, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" her eyes were closed, but she felt sure he was staring at the ceiling, his brow creased with worry.

"Leaving," he answered. "I know it's been happening more frequently lately, but there are several new employ-"

"Draco, I understand," she interrupted, pushing herself up to place a soft kiss on his cool lips. His face relaxed a little when she lifted a hand to caress his cheek. "Unless you're really sneaking out to see another witch," she joked, smiling while she moved his head to pretend-check for lipstick marks.

"Are you insane," he said, his voice unable to hide the slight irritation at her playful accusation. "I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else in the world."

She smiled at him, her hand idly tracing the curve of his jaw.

"I mean that," he whispered, placing his hand over hers and leaning into the warmth of her palm.

"I know you do," she replied, leaning down to kiss him again. She settled back down on the bed and let her head rest on his chest. "I rather like spending time with you, too."

They lay like that for several long minutes; enjoying each other's presence and listening to their silence. She was just about to doze off when she heard him whisper her name.

"Ginny? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," she replied, unable to open her eyes.

"Would you still look at someone the same if you knew all of their secrets?"

"What do you mean?" She opened her eyes at the question, immediately more alert.

"Well….what if you thought you knew someone, but there was something else, something that the person hadn't necessarily lied about, just…" He seemed to be struggling for words, something he rarely did. "What if it was just a significant fact that should have been disclosed at some point in a very muddled past?"

"What? Draco, you're scaring me. Is something wrong?" She could hear his heart hammering in his chest and the sound of it kept her frozen to the spot.

"No, no. There's this thing," she heard him stop and take a deep breath and it was a long moment before he spoke again. "There's this person at work." She gave an audible sigh of relief and let go of his arm, unaware that she had been clutching it tightly. "He has a very…interesting past. And we've talked about it before. But it always seems like there's just something I don't know about him, something off, but I can't put my finger on it."

"Have you talked to him recently?"

"Yes, sort of. But I always feel like there's something he isn't telling me…."

"Maybe it's not important."

There was another long pause and she thought he had drifted off to sleep.

"What if it is?"

"He'll tell you on his own time," she answered. "I wouldn't worry about it, it's probably not like he murdered someone or something. "

She chuckled lightly, but he did not make a sound or move a muscle.

"It's not, is it?" she whispered, suddenly straight-faced.

"I don't know, Ginny. I wish I could tell yo- him that…I'm here for him. You know, if he needs to talk."

"I'm sure he already knows that," she said between large yawns.

"Nevermind, I'll figure something out," he said, pulling up the covers and holding her close. "Let's go to sleep, we've got a long day tomorrow."

* * *

_And summer arrives with a length of lights._

_And summer blows away,_

_And quietly gets swallowed by a wave._

* * *

"Sir, this residence has a spectacular view of Muggle London. These curtains here are covering floor-to-ceiling, one-way windows."

The tall, posh-looking man grasped one of the long curtains and pulled it back to reveal the window and Ginny could not hide her appreciative gasp.

The sun was shinning and London lay stretched out before her in almost every direction. It reminded her of the time Draco had taken her to the London Eye.

"Lovely view," Draco stated. "What are one-way windows again?

"You can see out, but no one else can see in. Anyone looking in will find that the windows look exactly like the other exterior walls." The man smiled brightly at Draco's nod of approval.

Ginny wandered away as the two men started discussing the size and cost of the apartment. She trusted Draco was far savvier to the business aspect than she was.

Her heels echoed slightly on the warm mahogany floors d as she walked down the main hallway and into each bedroom. She was rather surprised at the size and layout of the two large bedrooms, each with an adjoining bath. The tub in the master bedroom was large enough for several people, and the idea of owning such a thing made her cheeks flush with excitement. There was a linen closet halfway down the hallway, an empty room she could use as a large office or a small library, and a half bath just before the main living space.

She peeked into the airy and open living room and found Draco still in deep discussion with the realtor. The kitchen was just off the living room, moderately-sized with sleek lines and an island in the center she knew would be excellent for those times when she was up to her elbows in holiday cooking. There was room enough in the kitchen for a small table, so she was already imagining a use for the formal dining room. She glanced in the dining room and noticed how the afternoon sun was filling the room with brilliant gems of color and knew instantly the room would be perfect for her to paint in.

She was just closing the door to the coat closet when she heard the realtor clear his throat loudly.

"So ma'am, what do you think?" he asked, studying her reaction carefully.

"I love it," Ginny answered honestly.

Her eyes found Draco's and she was pleased to see the shadow of a grin, which she knew meant he agreed.

"I'll take it," she said, beaming.

"Excellent!" the realtor replied, clapping his hands together and smiling. "Let's see…it's nearly 1 p.m. now. If I get back to the office quickly, I can have the papers drawn up and ready for your signature before the end of business today."

"Wonderful," Ginny replied. "When could I begin moving in?"

"If everything clears alright, I'd say at the very latest, the end of the week, but probably sooner."

"Great," Ginny answered, stepping forward to shake his hand.

"Stop back by my office this evening at around 4:30 p.m."

Ginny nodded and allowed the man to usher them from the apartment, already thinking of paint and furniture and Flooing her brothers for a few extra hands moving her things.

* * *

She had started moving in on Tuesday and it was Saturday before the chaos and dust had finally settled.

Ginny was sitting on her new couch, (soft and red with beige pillows), resting her feet on the coffee table and sipping the first cup of tea she had made in her new apartment. Fred and Ron had just left after helping her unpack the last bit of furniture (they had shrunk most of it for the actual moving process) and helping her arrange it carefully.

After moving the couch to four different locations, Ron had shouted something about Auror work being less strenuous and she had decided everything was finally in the right place.

She sighed and took in the finished look of her surroundings. The couch was facing a fire place and the mantle was littered with moving photographs of her family and friends. There wasn't a photo of Draco there, not yet. But his absence among those she cared about was glaringly obvious. She had seen him only once during the past week when he had stopped by to ask her what help she needed. She had been working most of the day and was asleep when he had entered her bedroom. He had woken her long enough to kiss her and promise to stop by Saturday afternoon. A sharp rap on the door jarred her from her contemplations.

The tea cup rattled as she thrust it on the saucer. She jumped up and tried to smooth her hair. She had pulled it in a ponytail high on her head sometime that morning when she had painted her bedroom.

She pulled open the door and felt her heart flutter a little at the sight of Draco. He was as immaculate as ever, handome in black slacks and a short-sleeved grey sweater. She felt inferior next to him; her jeans and t-shirt were dirty and she wished she had showered instead of making tea.

"Hi. I'm sorry I look like such a wreck. Ron and Fred have just left and I think we've finally got everything unpacked and in it's proper place." She always rambled when she felt self-conscious. She stopped herself when he smiled, and opened the door wide enough for him to enter. He stepped just inside the room and moved his hand to the door, pushing it closed behind him. The door had not completely met the frame before his hands were around her waist and he was kissing her with the pent-up desire of being apart for several long days.

He scooped her up and started towards her bedroom, kicking his shoes off on the way.

"I missed you so much," he murmured against her lips. "I forbid you to move again."

She smiled against his lips and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He did not take the time to admire her work. He did not notice her new living-room furniture or the artwork she had hung on the walls of the hallway. He did not notice the dark green rug under her bed, or the white of her down comforter.

Instead, he kissed her mouth and her neck and peeled the work clothes from her petite frame. His actions were care and slow, as though a week apart had given him the need to discover her body all over again.

"I was going to give you a tour of the place," she breathed, her body tingling as his hands snaked up her naked thighs. "I wanted to show you what I've been doing all week."

"I got the abbreviated tour," he said, his voice an octave lower than usual. "Besides, isn't this the most important room?"

She giggled happily. "I suppose you could say that."

"Also," he started, "I did notice you painted your bedroom green."

"Oh?" His lips kissed their way up from her naval.

"And if I'm not mistaken, I'd say that it was Slytherin green."

His face was hovering inches from hers and she could not make out his eyes, though she felt sure they were twinkling.

"I am rather fond of a certain Slytherin," she breathed.

She felt, rather than saw, him smiling, before he let his lips fall on hers.

It was much later and a cold rain was lashing against the window in her bedroom. She was curled against Draco, his hand warm on the curve of her back. They had finished a while ago, and her breathing was slow and even. She was certain Draco had drifted to sleep and was just about to let it take her, when she felt him stir. She struggled to maintain her even breathing when she felt him press his lips to her forehead.

"Ginny?" She strained to hear the words he had whispered so quietly she might have dreamed it. She did not answer and she guessed he thought she was asleep. She felt his chest move as he took a deep breath. His hand tightened on her back and what he said as he exhaled made her dizzy. "I love you."

She lost track of time as she laid there, her heart beating madly. She felt lightheaded and giddy as she tried to let his whispered confession sink in. It was later, after she felt some semblance of normalcy returning and his breathing had become even, that she trusted her voice to speak.

"I love you, too."

* * *

_And summer arrives with a length of lights._

_And summer blows away,_

_And quietly gets swallowed by a wave._

* * *

**A/N: Hope you like the new chapter. The next chapter has a LOT more action. And it's not the beginning of the end of summer, if anyone can guess what that means. Read and review! And look for the new chapter MUCH sooner. **

* * *


	14. I Will Remember

**Chapter 14 – "I Will Remember"**

**A/N: I told you I would update sooner! **

**Read and review because I'm curious to know what you think. I've had this story on my mind for so long, I can't honestly say whether or not it's any good. **

**This chapter's song is "I Will Remember" – Over the Rhine.**

* * *

_I will remember_

_Every dream about you..._

* * *

"What do you mean you've been seeing someone?" Ron demanded. His fork was suspended in midair and he seemed completely to have forgotten the chicken he had previously scooped from his plate. 

"Now Ron, you keep your temper in check or I'll send you away from the table," Molly scolded. She turned back to face her daughter with a kind, yet questioning face. "You were saying, dear?"

It was a beautiful sunny September day and the Weasley clan had gathered for Sunday afternoon brunch in the back yard at the Burrow. Everyone around the table had been chatting careless until Ginny had casually mentioned to Hermione that she was seeing someone. Now, every creature in the backyard seemed to have frozen, hanging on her every word. Ginny suddenly felt this might have gone better if she'd simply told her mum and dad first. Maybe Molly could have broken the news to her brothers a bit better than she was doing.

"We've been seeing one another for a few months," Ginny said slowly, tensed for the onslaught of yelling she was sure would come.

And Ron did open his mouth, but the glare Molly fixed him with was enough to make him turn his anger on his plate. He attacked his chicken, savagely skewering a piece with his fork and stuffing it in his mouth.

"And do we know this lucky fellow?" Arthur asked, straining to maintain his pleasantly interested smile.

"Probably," Ginny started, her gaze fixed on the apple tree behind her father. She continued on in a rush. "And I'd love to tell you who, but I don't think certain people," here she took a breath and glared at Ron, Fred and George respectively, "would be very open-minded about him."

"Gin?" Harry's voice drew her attention away from her brothers.

She recognized the tone of dawning comprehension in his voice and realized too late he had probably put two and two together. He had been there that night at the ministry ball, all those months ago.

She ignored Harry and turned her focus back on her mother.

"Mum, I think it would be best for all involved if you and dad meet him first," she said, thinking that this had seemed so much easier under the cloak of darkness. She had told Draco the night before that she didn't want to keep him a secret from her family anymore, and of course her parents would like him, and yes she'd like them all to meet. "Would you like to come to my apartment tomorrow evening for dinner?"

"Of course, dear," her mom answered, smiling broadly.

"We'd love to," her dad chimed in.

"And the rest of you will keep your noses in your own business until Ginny is ready to let you in on the private goings-on of her life," Molly added, giving each of her sons a firm look.

"Thanks Mum," Ginny whispered, gratitude shining in her eyes.

Molly simply smiled, nodded and directed everyone else to get back to their food before winter chased them back inside.

* * *

_I will remember_

_I could not doubt you._

* * *

Ginny had just served dessert when she realized that no one had broken anything. 

Draco and Arthur were actually having a very animated conversation about international trading agreements or something of the sort. Her mother was grinning at Draco in a way that made Ginny proud. She sat back in her chair and savored the rich flavor of the tiramisu Draco had insisted she make.

Of course, the entire evening had not gone off without any hitches.

When her parents had opened the door to see Draco Malfoy seated on their only daughters living room sofa they had been a bit taken-aback, to say the least. Arthur's face had turned a shade of red Ron would have been proud of and Molly looked hurt and betrayed. But Draco had been polite, courteous and charming. He had assured them it would be a shock for his mother as well, and he understood their reactions.

"But I care about your daughter a great deal," he had explained as he took their traveling cloaks and hung them in the closet. "It was my suggestion that we meet. I know how important family is to Ginny and I didn't want her to go on keeping secrets from her family."

Molly had warmed to him soon after that, and by the main course, Arthur had followed. Draco was at top form, witty and pleasant, and she knew it was easy for her parents to see what had attracted her to him.

It was over tea that Molly saw that time had gotten away from them.

"Oh dear!" Molly said, sitting her teacup on the saucer. "It's nearly 11. We'd best be heading home, Arthur."

"Is it really that late?" Arthur asked, looking up from his conversation with Draco. He glanced at his watch and jumped up when he confirmed the time. "Heavens, we didn't mean to stay so long."

He and Molly headed for the door and Draco managed to beat them to the closet with their cloaks.

"You really don't have to run, mum," Ginny said, helping Molly into her cloak.

"Yes, we do. I've got a hundred things to do tomorrow, dear." She took Ginny's face in her hands and lowered her voice. "And don't you worry about your brothers. Leave them to me."

"Thanks mum," Ginny mumbled as Molly pulled her into a hug.

"I never thought I'd be saying this about Malfoy's son, but I absolutely adore him," Molly whispered against Ginny's cheek.

"Me too," Ginny replied before Molly stepped away.

Draco and Arthur were shaking hands when Molly came over to pull Draco into a hug. He seemed startled at first, but managed to pat her on the back before she pulled away. In a moment, Arthur and Molly had stepped into the outside hallway and disapparated.

Ginny closed the door behind them and signed loudly.

"That was…." she trailed off, searching for an appropriate word.

"Interesting," Draco supplied, moving back towards the kitchen.

"To say the least," Ginny replied.

"You know, I really like your parents," he said. He stopped by the table, lifted the teapot and carried it to the sink. "Honestly. They just seem so…normal."

"Thanks," she laughed, reaching out to help him clear the table.

They worked quickly, but the familiarity and casualness of the activity was not lost to her. They were standing side-by-side at the sink; he washed and rinsed the dishes, while she dried and returned them to their proper cabinets.

She glanced at him when they were nearly finished, wondering what the old Hogwarts Malfoy would have said if he could have seen how he would turn out, up to his elbows in dishwater suds, his normally perfectly-styled hair falling into his eyes. He reached his arm up to wipe at his hair and ended up smearing bubbles across his forehead. He sighed loudly and attempted to blow the bubbles from his face. Ginny, grinning like an idiot, felt her heart swell as she walked over to wipe his brow.

"You're adorable when out of your element," she whispered, reaching in the murky water to pull out his wrinkled hand. "Have you ever washed dishes before?"

"Are you mad? A Malfoy wash dishes?" he answered, then grinned sheepishly. "I just wanted to help you. You'll probably have to rewash everything tomorrow."

"Probably," she laughed. He was laughing too as he reached into the sink to drain the water. "But right now, all I want is a nice bath and a soft bed."

Draco grinned and tossed her the towel he had just dried his hands on

"I think we could arrange that," he answered, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her down the hallway.

* * *

_All my first impressions_

_Of my new possession_

_I will remember_

_I will remember_

* * *

"Ginny, I'm so glad we went with lavender," Hermione gushed, plucking at the hem of Ginny's dress. 

"Yes, I do think that particular shade of yellow you suggested earlier would have been a disaster with my hair," Ginny answered, turning to inspect the criss-cross of the gowns straps across her back.

The girls, along with Luna, were in Diagon Alley for the final bridesmaid dress fitting. Fleur, who had already been fitted, had left for a meeting at the bank.

"Yes, you were right," Hermione answered. She stood and pulled at Ginny's gown strap and, finding it suitable, turned to the seamstress and smiled. "I think everything is in order with this one, thank you."

"I can't believe you're getting married in barely more than a month," Ginny said, stepping off the podium and heading towards the changing room.

"I know! There's so much left to do!" Hermione exclaimed, hurrying over to knock on Luna's door. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I'm coming," Luna answered, her dreamy voice floating over the top of the dressing-room door..

Ginny listened to Hermione and Luna checking the other girls dress as she pulled her robes back on. It was always entertaining to listen to Hermione try to get direct answers from Luna.

"It fits lovely," Hermione was saying when Ginny emerged from the changing room. "Do you like the color?"

"Oh yes, it's nice," Luna replied. Hermione looked relieved before Luna continued, "Although it might attract a few nargles…"

Hermione sighed and turned to catch Ginny rolling her eyes.

"This one's fine, too," Hermione told the seamstress as Luna made her way back to her changing room.

"It's your turn now," Ginny said in a sing-song voice.

She ushered Hermione over to a larger changing room and held the door open so the seamstress could help Hermione into her dress.

Luna and Ginny had been sitting on the couch behind the platform for nearly ten minutes before Hermione finally emerged.

"Oh Merlin," Ginny whistled. "Harry won't know what hit him."

"That will _certainly_ attract nargles," Luna said, eyeing the beadwork on the bodice of Hermione's gown.

Hermione laughed as she stepped onto the platform. She gasped when she took in the sight of the tight-fitting bodice and ball-gown shape of the white silk skirt of the dress.

"You look beautiful, Hermione. I'm so happy for you," Ginny answered.

She had moved to stand beside the platform and Hermione reached down to grasp Ginny's hand in hers. The two women smiled at one another then burst out laughing, the stress and excitement of the event finally getting to them.

They were still giggly occasionally as they left the shop. Hermione directed the bridesmaid dresses to be delivered and had asked if she could store her dress at Ginny's apartment to keep Harry from snooping.

"This was too much fun," Ginny said.

It was late afternoon and the streets were crowded with the after-work rush.

"It was!" Hermione agreed. "You know what? We should get some drinks or dinner. It would be nice to unwind a little."

"Oh Hermione, I'd really like to, but Ron and I are going to dinner tonight," Luna said.

"Can't you postpone or something?" Hermione asked as they approached the Leaky Cauldron.

"I wish I could," Luna replied. "But Ron and Harry are going out of town tomorrow for business and we already planned to spend some time together tonight."

"Business?" Ginny interrupted. "Auror business?"

"Yes," Luna answered. "He couldn't tell me where he's going exactly, so it must be very high-risk."

"Oh, I'll bet it is," Ginny replied, at once feeling excitement that they must have a lead on Death Eater activity and upset that they had not involved her. "Luna, is Ron still at the office?"

"I believe so. Why?"

"I'd like to have a word with him, that's all." Ginny turned to leave, then remembered Hermione and turned back to hug the woman and apologize. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. Can you take a rain-check until the weekend?"

"Of course," Hermione answered, hugging Ginny back. "That is, if you're not out gallivanting around with a certain Malfoy…."

Ginny pretended to glared at her.

"Did my Mum tell you?"

"No, Harry actually."

"Oh." Ginny guessed one of her brothers had found out from her parents, and then told Harry. "Well, I'll always have time for you."

"I know." Hermione smiled. "But if you want to catch Ron you better go."

"Right. I'll Floo you later!" She called, taking off down the street, her mind racing.

* * *

_Every shadow_

_Every shiver_

_Every breath of borrowed air_

_Somehow_

_I feel now_

* * *

The Auror Department Offices were mostly deserted when Ginny arrived, but she could hear voices coming from behind Harry's closed door. Two voices, she determined, both of which she was certain she recognized. 

She knocked once, then opened the door. Harry was leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on his desk and Ron was sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

Both men jumped when Ginny barged in.

"So, thought you were going off to fight without me, did you?" She demanded.

Ron looked as if he were about to deny everything, but Harry spoke first.

"I guess we can't pretend we don't know what you're talking about," he said. "Have a seat and we'll tell you what we can."

"Thank you," she said, looking smugly at Ron.

"How did you find out, though?" Ron asked.

"Your lovely girlfriend let slip you were going out of town on top-secret Auror business," Ginny said, smiling.

"Shite! I forgot that dress thing was today," Ron exclaimed.

The mention of dress-fitting seemed to distract Harry from the business at hand.

"Dress?" He asked, blushing profusely. "How did she look?"

"Beautiful," Ginny answered. "But stop trying to change the subject."

"Oh. Yes." Harry stopped to straighten the papers on his desk. "We've been informed of another meeting, this time in Turkmenistan." The word sent off an alarm in Ginny's mind, but she could not remember what the connection was. "Our informant has also told us that several of the current leaders of the movement will be present at tomorrow night's meeting. We've been in contact with the Turkmenistan Auror department and we're assembling a team to try and capture some key players. It's not a stake-out this time, Gin. It's going to be a fight, and people are going to get hurt."

He paused for a moment to study her face. She did not feel fearful at the prospect of a battle, and she was sure he could see that on her face.

"We want to take as many of these bastards into custody as we can," Ron cut in. "We have to act now before they have the chance to follow through with whatever they've been planning the last couple of months."

"What have they been planning?" She asked, her curiosity increasing.

"Something large-scale is all we've been able to determine," Harry answered slowly, glancing at Ron.

The two men shared a meaningful look and Ginny knew they were keeping something from her. However, she did not press the issue. At the moment she would rather go with them the following evening.

"So what time do we leave?" Ginny asked, leaning forward to place her hands on the corner of Harry's desk.

"Ginny, I don't know if it's such a good idea for you to -- " Harry started.

"Stop it. We've had this discussion before. And last time, I believe I provided valuable curse-breaking assistance." She raised her eyebrows at Harry, daring him to disagree. He looked at her, with a look somewhat akin to pity. She narrowed her eyes then, confused and trying desperately to keep her temper in check. "Harry?"

He glanced at Ron, who shrugged lightly, which served only to increase Ginny's interest in their strange behavior.

"What's going on?" She demanded, looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Nothing," Harry answered. "We're leaving from here at 8 p.m. tomorrow night. Don't be late."

She nodded once and left the office, her mind a whirl of confusion and uncertainty.

* * *

_Every whisper_

_Taken prisoner_

_Every brush of cloth_

_And furrowed brow_

_I feel_

_This last day darling_

_Here with me (darling)_

_All the rest is history_

* * *

She had just slipped between the sheets when she heard his key in the door. She smiled and extinguished the candle on her bedside table, listening as he dropped his keys onto the kitchen table. 

Draco had sent her an owl earlier, informing her that his meeting had run late and he might not be able to stop by until later. She had waited until nearly 10 p.m. before giving up, taking her bath and going to bed.

His footsteps in the hallway echoed lightly against the walls, and a clap of thunder made her jump. There was something about the approaching storm and him sneaking in at such a late hour that had her skin tingling.

She sat up on her pillows just as he stepped into her room, and she watched silently as he unclasped his cloak and draped it over the chair in the corner. He sat in the chair and slowly removed his shoes and socks, watching her the entire time. She pushed the covers down to her waist, knowing he would recognize the black lace negligee he had bought her as a housewarming gift.

A flash of lightning cast the room in an eerie blue light for a moment and she felt goose bumps rising on her arms.

* * *

_Every shade of white_

_In the thieving night_

_That we steal to grow inspired_

_I know right now_

* * *

She watched as his gaze traveled over her body and she licked her lips lightly. 

He took a step towards the bed before pulling his shirt up over his head and letting it fall to the floor. Her breathing increased when she heard him undo his belt and unzip his trousers.

No words had been spoken and she had seen him dozens of times before, but her heart was racing from the sight of his naked form and the promise in his eyes.

He sunk onto the bed and pulled the covers off her.

She reached for the hem of the gown, and he watched as she pulled it over her head. Then he was kissing her, and the rain started coming down harder outside.

He paused, lifting his head from her lips and gazing into her eyes.

"Ginny, there's something I need to tell you," he whispered, his eyes silently pleading. "I tried the other night, but - "

"I heard you. I was still awake," she whispered, bringing a finger to place over his lips. "I love you, too."

He looked startled for a moment, but then smiled more brightly than she had ever seen him smile before.

"I do love you," he breathed, brushing kisses over her face. "You know that, don't you?"

"Yes," she breathed, and the word became a hiss as he bit down on her neck and grasped her breast in his palm.

* * *

_Every kiss and curse_

_Every burning thirst_

_Every fix and flush of fire_

_I feel right now_

* * *

She lay awake, listening to the mingled sounds of the pounding rain and his steady breathing. Another clap of thunder rattled the porcelain box on her dresser. 

She watched tiny rivers of rain sliding down the glass of the window and knew with strange clarity that something was different about that particular night. The magic in the air had been nearly palpable and she had felt something…..something exciting and heartbreaking and unexplainable.

She turned on her side to gaze at Draco's sleeping form.

She had realized months ago that he was spectacularly beautiful and tragic in his sleep, and he was even more so tonight, for reasons she could not begin to understand.

Lightning lit the room again and suddenly she felt as if the darkness was slipping away far too soon. She had an idea then, and wondered vaguely why she had not thought to do so before.

She slipped from the bed and padded quietly down the hall to the dining room. Here, she retrieved her sketch pad and a lone piece of charcoal she had purchased months ago but never used.

Paint was her usual medium, but tonight was unusual, in every way.

She picked up the small wooden chair from in front of her easel and made her way back to the bedroom, hoping she had not made too much noise.

She sat her chair quietly beside the bed but froze when she dropped the pad of paper.

Her eyes found Draco and she watched with batted breath as he stirred in his sleep. His lips moved as though he was speaking in his dream, but she could not determine what he had meant to say.

"Draco?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper, but the sound of it seemed to calm him.

He was still for a moment more before she picked up the sketch pad, settled herself on the chair and turned to study him.

* * *

_Every sound we make_

_Is a new prayer prayed_

_Disappearing, disappearing._

_I hold on now_

* * *

He was lying on his back, his chest bare and the blanket pushed to his waist. 

His right arm was over his head, palm up, resting on the pillows and the other was stretched across his abdomen, as though he were still reaching for her.

The blinds on the windows were open just enough to let the blue light of the city outside illuminate him in shadows.

She gazed at him for several long minutes before her charcoal finally met the paper, and by then his image was nearly burned into her retinas. Her hand seemed to move of its own accord, working effortlessly to capture the true version of the man before her.

He was bare before her, but somehow still secretive and she realized there were many things she did not yet know about him.

She took particular care drawing his face, smudging the harsh black lines smooth, like the outline of his lips.

When she finished, she studied the portrait.

He was captured in his innocent sleep, painfully beautiful and tragic, the way she imagined a fallen angel should look. The picture moved her, and she knew that she would not paint him because the simple yet striking lines of charcoal had captured him better than her brush ever would.

She traced the line of his jaw on the paper and felt her heart constrict. She felt something was wrong, or off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She wiped at her eyes then, unaware tears had been spilling silently down her face.

She carefully placed the sketch into the drawer of her nightstand and slipped back in beside him.

* * *

_I will remember_

_Every sliver of you_

_This last day darling_

_Here with me (darling)_

_All the rest is history_

* * *

"Ginny, don't move from this spot until you see my signal," Harry ordered her, moving from behind the building. He sprinted to the left, where she knew their Turkmenistan counterparts were waiting. 

They had arrived in Turkmenistan nearly an hour earlier and it had taken them almost as long to locate the secret meeting of the suspected Death Eaters. They were hiding out in what looked to be a deserted warehouse in a most unpleasant part of town.

Ron was beside her, focused and quietly observing the building for any sign of movement.

"As soon as we know they're dismissing, we'll act," Ron whispered. "They can't disapparate from the building. So don't do anything until we see the door open and a few of them start coming out."

Ginny nodded and squinted into the twilight, looking for any signal that there was someone inside the building.

Suddenly, the door burst open and several people came barreling outside. Harry's patronus appeared beside them suddenly, and Ginny knew this was the sign for them to attack.

She hesitated long enough to hear that Harry and the Turkmenistan Aurors had already started the battle. Men were shouting curses in foreign tongues, light was flashing over the buildings and pieces of stone and dirt littered the air.

"Ginny!" Ron shouted, calling her from their hiding place.

This time she did not think, but merely stepped out into the line of fire and begun casting spells in every direction.

She lost count of how many men had come from the building, but they were easy enough to target. Most still had their old Death Eaters masks on, but some had taken them off for better visibility in the fading light.

Quite a few of the men had been stunned, but a band of about 10 were still huddled by the door of the building, firing curses and shouting.

"Ginny!" Ron was suddenly behind her, covering her from the back. "Ginny, Harry's just stunned Yaxley and a few others! As soon as we can drive them back enough to disapparate away, we'll be out of here."

"Alright!" Ginny shouted and fired several stunning curses to cover Ron as he made his way over to where Harry was detaining several men.

It was when she averted her eyes to the side of the building near the main door that she saw something to make her blood run cold.

* * *

_I will remember_

_Every door we slip through_

_Every curving hour_

_Every dying ember_

* * *

She froze, stopping dead in her tracks and letting her arms fall limply to her sides. She stared at him, eyes wide in the red light of twilight, taking in the sight of his white-blond hair and porcelain features. 

"No," she gasped.

She was hallucinating, she was sure.

That was not him. That man could not be real.

Someone must have taken Polyjuice because Draco, _her_ Draco, could not possibly have just emerged from a known Death Eater hideout. The Draco she loved could not really be holding a Death Eater Mask in his gloved hand.

Red and green curses were flying about her in every direction, but it seemed the world had slowed down to her and the man who had not yet noticed her.

* * *

_Every color of our sorrow_

_Every fallen angel's graceful bow_

_I feel now_

* * *

He was not fighting, not exactly. 

His wand was drawn and he was gazing in Harry's general direction, but he was not casting any spells.

If only he would turn and face her. She was certain if she looked into his eyes she would know it was not really him, merely an imposter sent to confuse her and the Aurors.

She had still not moved, had not lifted her wand or shifted out of the line of fire.

A loud shout from behind her finally captured his attention. But when she felt his eyes on her, she _knew_.

She knew before she lifted her eyes from his chest that it was him.

She had felt those eyes on her a thousand times before.

And now, when she finally let her brown eyes meet his hard gray orbs, she found she was unable to draw another breath.

* * *

_Every broken word unspoken_

_Every crooked line of this sad town_

_I feel_

* * *

They stared at each other for nearly a minute. 

Her eyes were shining with tears of betrayal she could not yet shed.

His eyes were glowing with words he longed to tell her.

He took a step towards her, his hand reaching out to her, and it startled her from her daze. She held his stare, but took a step back just as someone fired a curse.

Her body absorbed the red light before she could realize what had happened.

She had only enough time to let her lips form an "Oh" shape.

She felt nothing but numb disbelief as she sank down onto the ground, her mind still burning with the image of his silvery gray eyes.

* * *

_I will remember_

_No other lover_

_There is no other_

* * *

**A/N: So? What did you think? All build-up and no climax? Don't forget to leave me a review!**

* * *


	15. This is Not Goodbye

**Chapter 15 – "This is Not Goodbye"**

**A/N: Another chapter! Sorry to leave you guys with that awful cliff hanger! **

**I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but: thank you to everyone who reads this story! And especially thanks to all of you who leave such excellent reviews! I absolutely love checking my e-mail and finding little messages about something I've been working on for so long. **

**This chapter song is "Goodbye (This is Not Goodbye)" – Over the Rhine. **

**Any idea who my favorite band might be:)**

**Enjoy and please take a moment to review!**

* * *

_Help me tell the truth you see_

_That's all I'm trying to do_

* * *

"_Ministry officials have now released additional information relating to the Turkmenistan capture of several British anti-government radicals yesterday evening. _

_According to reports, Harry Potter led the team of British and Turkmenistan Aurors who arrested seven alleged rebels, all of which are currently awaiting trial in Azkaban. All of those arrested are believed to be former Death Eaters. _

_The Death Eaters were supporters of the dark wizard, Lord Voldemort, who was defeated nearly five years ago by Mr. Potter -"_

"I can't believe they're still talking about that rubbish," Harry said, switching off the wireless and turning to glare at Ron.

"But there's a bit about the Cannons on in five minutes, mate," Ron started, but closed his mouth at the significant look Harry shot him.

"Thank you, Harry," a quiet voice muttered from the bed. "I believe I've heard quite enough about that."

Ginny was sitting among an array of pillows, looking a bit paler than usual, but alive and recovering nonetheless.

She had been taken to St. Mungo's nearly seconds after being hit by more than four stunners at once. She had slept soundly through the night and was expected to be released before dinner.

Her parents and the rest of her brothers had went home that morning to get some sleep, leaving Harry and Ron to keep her company until the Healers decided she was well enough to go home.

Ron was pacing back and forth at the foot of her bed and Harry had taken up residence in her bedside chair.

"Ron?" He turned expectantly towards her, eager for something to do besides wait and pace. "Would you mind grabbing me a butterbeer from the cafeteria? I've had nothing but water and that dreadful potion all day."

"Sure," Ron replied, already at the door. "Be right back."

As soon as the hem of his cloak had disappeared through the door, she turned to Harry.

"You don't really want a butterbeer, do you?" He asked.

She shook her head and he sighed, massaging his forehead gently with his fingers.

"Ginny, you know I can't tell you anything. I'm already being questioned because you were there. You aren't an Auror, so technically you shouldn't have even known about what we were doing, much less participating."

He stood and stretched, his face suddenly looking wearier than it had in a long while.

"I didn't mean to get you in trouble," she said, twisting on her pillows to watch as he took up Ron's position at the foot of her bed.

He leaned his hands on the mattress and continued in a tired voice.

"Because you are a former Order member and your brother is an Auror and you were injured, I don't think anyone is going to do much besides tell me not to let it happen again."

"You forgot to mention that you're still Harry Potter and you have been breaking the rules without getting into trouble since you were an eleven-year-old Hogwarts student," she said, smiling.

"Well, that was a given," he supplied, and she chuckled for a moment before closing her eyes and falling silent.

The silence stretched on for several minutes and Harry thought she might have fallen asleep, but just as he turned to move back towards the chair she drew a breath.

"I saw him," she whispered, her voice cracking in a way that made his chest constrict sympathetically.

"Saw who?" he asked, feigning surprise

"Dra – Malfoy," she said, her voice wavering on the name. "Right before I went down, I saw Draco Malfoy exit the building."

Ginny was turned towards the opposite wall and Harry could not see the look of sheer anguish on her face. But he could hear something odd in her voice, a pain he could not fully understand.

"Are you feeling alright, Ginny?" he said slowly. "You couldn't have seen Draco. You know him, Gin. You've been seeing him for how many months now?"

"I know Harry, but I also know what I saw." She took another deep breath and finally turned to look at him. "He's a Death Eater, Harry. I should have known. There have been signs, things I should have been paying attention to, but I was ignorant and oblivious."

"What are you talking about? Should I fetch the Healer?" Harry had returned to the chair by her bedside and was reaching his hand up to check the temperature of her forehead.

"No, no I'm fine," she replied, impatiently brushing his hand aside. "Just believe me when I say I wish that it wasn't true more than anyone. He's a Death Eater and I can tell you where he lives. You need to arrest him, Harry." She was talking fast now, afraid that if she didn't say what she had been rehearsing in her mind all afternoon, she would lose the nerve.

Harry held up his hands to stop her talking, but she continued. "There have been middle-of-the-night Floo calls, strange meetings and things he couldn't tell me about. He kept saying it was all work-related, but Harry, what kind of multi-million galleon company has an emergency every other week?"

"Ginny, now is not the time to be making such serious accusations. You're probably just feeling a little woozy from all the potions you've been taking," he replied, reaching to grasp her blankets.

She had the strange yet overwhelming sense that he was lying to her. Harry had always been a horrible liar and now was no different.

"You just need more sleep, Gin, that's all."

He had pulled the blankets up to her shoulders before he caught her eye.

"You're lying, I can tell. I can always tell. What I don't know is why. Have you known for a long time? Have you already arrested him? You're just trying to protect me now, aren't you?"

"Ginny, I haven't arrested anyone besides those seven men in Turkmenistan and none of them was Malfoy. You're starting to scare me. Please, will you just try and get some more rest?"

She pulled the blankets from his hand and lay back on the pillows, but did not drop his gaze.

"If I'm wrong, if I didn't really see him, then can you tell me something, Harry?" She whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Can you tell me why he hasn't come to see me or sent any word that he's concerned I nearly died?"

Harry was saved answering this by the return of Ron, who had brought butterbeer and a couple more visitors.

"Are you feeling alright, Ginny?" Luna asked, stepping up to the bed.

Ginny took several deep, calming breaths before answering.

"Yes, almost as good as new," she replied, reaching out to clasp Luna's hand.

"You gave us quite a fright," Hermione said.

"Oh? And is that because you couldn't possibly find another maid-of-honor before the wedding?" Ginny asked, fighting to keep from laughing at the shocked look on Hermione's face.

Hermione stood gaping at Ginny for several seconds before Ginny laughed loudly.

"I'm only joking; you don't have to be so serious."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief and everyone was talking and laughing when the Healer came in to release Ginny.

"I'll stop by and bring you some lunch tomorrow, alright?" Hermione said as she helped Ginny pull her traveling cloak on.

"Sounds excellent," Ginny replied.

"And maybe I can sneak you back to your place when I leave."

Molly had insisted that her daughter come home to the Burrow for the night, going on for several minutes about how _dreadful_ it would be spending the night home alone when Ginny was still not completely back to normal.

"I'll probably beat you there," Ginny smiled.

* * *

_All I'm trying to do is tell the truth_

_I'm not that shy_

* * *

Sunday dinner at the Burrow was always an event, but celebrating the health of a recently-injured Weasley was something quite more extravagant.

The Weasley clan had eaten course after course in the backyard of the Burrow, enjoying what would be one of the last beautifully warm days of the year.

Fred, George and their respective families had just left in a cloud of Floo and mischief when Bill finally managed to pull Ginny aside. Molly and Fleur were clearing the last of the dishes and Ron was helping Arthur move the tables back inside.

"Are you sure you're feeling up to speed Gin?" Bill asked.

His concern for his youngest sibling was oftentimes smothering, but always well-intentioned.

"Yes, I'm quite alright." Ginny answered him firmly, but avoided his gaze.

"Liar."

She jerked her head up quickly, glaring at her brother, but her eyes softened when she saw the love and compassion on his face.

"You always did call my bluff," she mumbled, shrugging.

"I think that's why I'm your favorite brother."

"I think I was always quit clear that Fred and George are my favorite brothers."

"Liar."

"Was there a point to this conversation?" She asked, hating and loving the knowing smirk on Bill's face

"I think you should take a couple weeks off."

There was no hint of a smile anymore. He had fixed her with his most serious, older-brothers-know-best, face.

"Bill, that's ridiculous, the Healers have released me - "

"Yes, I know the Healers say your body has recovered just fine, but I can tell from your eyes that something isn't right," Bill said, his voice now firm. "I don't know what happened that night in Turkmenistan, and I don't pretend to know all the details of your personal life Gin, but I know you well enough to know that something's up. You need some recovery time and I think the bank would understand. You've taken, what, four or five personal days in the last five years?"

"More like six or seven."

"You deserve some time for yourself. You're good enough at what you do to warrant some time off. Besides, I've already told them not to expect you back for a couple weeks." He turned her shoulders so that she was facing him and looking him straight in the eye. "Clean your house, paint, take a trip, do something relaxing. But Ginny, figure this out, whatever it is that's got you looking so jaded and defeated. I'm sure you have all the answers you need. If not, I'm sure you know where to go to find them."

"I can never argue with you, can I?" she asked, smiling despite herself.

"No, you can't," he replied, pulling her to him for a quick hug. "I'm always right. When will you just accept it?"

"Never, of course."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

_It's just in my head_

_All I've left unsaid_

* * *

Ginny had emptied and rearranged every cabinet in her house at least twice before the end of the week.

She had cleaned the bathrooms three times, alphabetized her bookshelf and her Christmas cards were all written out, waiting to be posted in a couple months.

But she had steadfastly avoided the bedroom.

Ginny tried cleaning it on the first day of her "vacation," but had unfortunately started with her night table. She had found the drawing of Draco and for a moment she had let the unbearable pain of betrayal course through every fiber of her being.

But she had managed to slip it back inside the drawer before she let it overwhelm her. She had been sleeping on the couch ever since, trying everything in her power not to think of anything to do with him.

It was not as easy as she would have imagined, trying to block all memories of the last few months from her mind. There were reminders of him everywhere in her apartment. His toothbrush beside hers in the bathroom, the green paint of her bedroom walls, and the extra dress shirt he had left hanging in her closet.

Her second night back in the apartment had been nearly disastrous. After downing half a bottle of fire whiskey, she had somehow made it to his offices in Diagon Alley without splinching herself. It was unclear what exactly she had planned on doing once she got to his offices, but part of her was hoping he was there, working late. The building was dark however, and she ended up sitting on the steps, nursing her whiskey and mumbling angrily until a patrolling auror had sent her home with a stout warning.

It had been two weeks since the raid in Turkmenistan and she had yet to hear a single word from Draco. No letter, no Floo, not even a mention of his activities in the newspapers.

It was a Tuesday evening and Ginny had just rearranged all her painting supplies when she decided she was going to visit Harry and demand he investigate her claims. If Draco really was what she now believed him to be, it would be easier for her to move on if he was in the proper custody and not gallivanting around deceiving someone else.

She dusted her hands and stood, mentally preparing what she would say to Harry to convince him.

* * *

_This is not goodbye…_

* * *

It was half past five when she arrived in the atrium of the Ministry.

She knew from her quick Floo call to Hermione that Harry was working a bit late and if she made it before six, she was sure to catch him. She nodded to the security wizard and headed towards the lifts, just catching one as someone stepped off.

She paced in the lift, fully prepared to go barreling into Harry's office, insisting that he listen to her claims and treat them as he would any other person reporting suspicious activity.

The lift rattled to a stop on the auror level and she tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the golden grills to open. She stepped from the lift and tore off between the rows of deserted cubicles, focusing only on the door to Harry's office and the impending conversation.

The green glow of a Floo fire and the sound of voices stopped her just before the fingers fell on the doorknob. She took a step back and focused on the glow coming from under the door, listening intently to the voices.

Harry's she recognized right away, and the other voice, a male, was strangely familiar although she could not quite place it.

It was several seconds before she realized the two men were speaking in raised voices, obviously having an argument about something.

"No, I refuse to place myself in the middle of this!" Harry said, clearly agitated.

"What do you mean; you aren't going to tell me anything?"

The tones of the second voice were so familiar, Ginny felt she must know the speaker from somewhere.

"You heard me," Harry replied darkly. "If there's nothing else, I'm due at home."

"Don't grate me,_Potter._ You know very well that my cooperation is still needed. If you will not help me, perhaps I should not extend that same courtesy to you."

"Just go talk to her, dammit!" Harry shouted. "I don't know what else to tell you."

"Fine. Goodbye."

And before Ginny could process what the man had said, the fire was dark and the office was quiet.

She waited a moment more, giving Harry time enough to cool down and not suspect that she had been eavesdropping.

She knocked on the door this time and Harry's voice sounded weary when he greeted her.

"Ginny, what are you doing here? I thought you at home resting?" he asked, standing by his desk motioning for her to sit in front of it.

"No thanks, I'd rather stand," she replied. "And I've been at home for nearly two weeks. I think I'm losing my mind."

"What can I do for you?" he asked politely, moving to close the door behind her.

"Harry, I think you know why I'm here."

He sighed and ran a hand through his permanently tousled hair, hoping to avoid the argument he knew was coming.

"Do you have any more information about the Death Eaters who got away that night? Have they been spotted anywhere?"

"You know I can't tell you anything. Everything pertaining to the investigation is classified and I definitely can't get caught leaking information to you again," he explained for maybe the fifth time.

"What about Malfoy then? Aren't you having him investigated? Or at least followed?" she demanded.

"Haven't you seen Draco?" Harry asked, tidying up the papers on his desk. "I was under the impression from your brother that you were dating the, how did Ron put it? Ah yes, 'that Malfoy git.'"

It was so much easier to be angry, but hearing someone else say his name was different somehow. It made the situation more real, as if she really hadn't imagined everything, and it made it all the more painful. She took a great shuddering breath before speaking again.

"You know what, just forget it," she replied.

The fight had left her and she was unexplainably exhausted.

"I'll see you at the rehearsal in three weeks."

"Gin, wait. I didn't mean to - "

"It's alright," she said, stopping in the doorway to turn and give him her best reassuring look. "Owl me if you get any news about, well, you know."

He nodded and she was gone before he could follow her.

* * *

_And later on, I won't know how…_

* * *

It was raining when she dropped her keys on the foyer table.

She eyed the couch apprehensively, but her body ached with an exhaustion she couldn't justify and she moved impulsively towards her bedroom.

It was ridiculous to let him keep her from her own bedroom and she reminded herself of this again as she opened the door and slipped off her shoes. She peeled her robes off haphazardly as she headed towards the bed.

She yawned and stretched before flopping face down onto the wonderfully soft down of the comforter.

She smiled into the pillow, thinking how foolish it had been to avoid the bedroom, and took a deep breath.

She regretted it instantly, as her nostrils were filled with the musky scent of his cologne. Tears sprang to her eyes as memories of the last night they had spent together in that bed sprang forth from the recesses of her mind.

"_I do love you," he breathed, brushing kisses over her face. _

She clamped her eyes shut, breathing as though she were running, but was unable to keep his voice from her mind. Her heart was clenching tightly in her chest and she felt dizzy from the pain.

"_You know that, don't you?"_

She sat up at once, not bothering to muffle the cry that had burst from her lips.

Tears were streaming down her face as she staggered to the closet. She jerked the door open and pulled her suitcase from the pile of shoes on the floor.

She pulled several items from the closet, not bothering to wipe the tears that were streaming down her face. She stuffed the clothes haphazardly into the bag as she carried it towards her dresser.

She was packed in less than five minutes and was halfway to the door before she realized she should probably send a quick letter to someone to let them know she had gone.

She left her bags and ran back to the desk in her bedroom. She shuffled through the drawer before retrieving a clean scrap of parchment.

She pulled out the first quill her fingertips grazed, an expensive and deep emerald green one.

She let out a startled cry and fell into the chair, recognizing yet another piece of himself he had left behind, and felt as though the floor had dropped out from under her. She took several deep gulps of air and managed to toss the quill back into the drawer.

Finally, she grasped a rumpled-looking quill and managed to scratch out a letter before grabbing her suitcase.

_Hermione, _

_I hope everything is going well with you and the wedding planning. _

_I just wanted to let you know I'm going to be out of town for a couple days. Don't worry, everything is fine, I just need a change of scenery. _

_If you need me for anything, send an owl towards Romania and it will find me. I think I'll go see how Charlie and his dragons are doing. _

_Take care and I'll see you at the rehearsal._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

She was gone before the owl had disappeared on the horizon.

* * *

_I don't know who else to be_

_More and more I'm secretly just me_

_Open your eyes_

* * *

**A/N: Let's hear the verdict, please. **

**Love it, hate it, have suggestions? **

**I'll take any and all reviews! **

**Expect another update very soon.**

* * *


	16. Crying Out

**Chapter 16 – "Crying Out"**

* * *

**A/N: Thank you, thank you, and thank you for those AWESOME reviews! You guys are just plain amazing!**

**I hope you are as excited to read this new chapter as I was to write it! And sorry it took me a while to get this chapter online. I've been traveling a lot for my job and it's hard to find an internet connection sometimes, let alone time to sit down and actually write a coherent sentence. Thanks though, for the well-wishes in my job. It's going great. **

**Anyway. **

**Beware, the following is sort of angsty. I planned it this summer when I was feeling blue and now I'm not sure how else I could write it. Sorry if you hate angst. I sometimes do, too.**

**The song for this chapter: "Almost Lover" – A Fine Frenzy.**

* * *

_Your fingertips across my skin_

_The palm trees swaying in the wind_

_Images…_

* * *

Ginny had managed to compose herself before arriving on Charlie's doorstep.

He hadn't been too surprised and she could only surmise that Bill must have sent him word that she might be visiting soon.

She had spent several days settling into his guest room and helping him clean the house, something she found hadn't been done properly since their mother had come to visit last.

It was over dinner on her fourth evening there that she had the feeling Charlie was trying to figure out how to ask her about her visit without sounding too rude.

She smiled at his silence as they cleared away the dinner dishes.

"Still single, huh, Charlie?" Ginny asked, dipping the remainder of her stew into the rubbish bin.

"Yea, just can't seem to find the right woman," he replied, wiping the crumbs from the roughly hewn wooden table.

Charlie was a simple and kind man. His cottage was plain, yet tidy, and although it couldn't be classified as "fancy," it was close to his dragons and that was good enough for him.

"She's probably out there somewhere," Ginny mumbled, downing the last dregs of her elder wine.

"Probably," he answered.

He leaned against the table and studied her closely.

Her eyes were glazed over and she looked as if she were about to burst into tears. He took the glass from her hand and set it in the sink.

"You want to tell me what's up? Bill's letter wasn't very informative. And, not that I don't love your company, but you've been here for almost a week without so much as mentioning why you left London."

"What did he tell you?" she asked, turning to lean over the sink, unable to bear the pitying look in Charlie's soft eyes.

From the window above the sink she could see out across the meadow behind Bill's cottage. In the distance she could just make out the paddock where she knew her brother was housing the injured dragons he was currently mending. She thought briefly that she would be better off in the paddock with the wounded dragons.

"He told me about the battle in Turkmenistan. He told me you were fine physically, but that something must have happened in your relationship with that Malfoy bloke. He said to give you time and privacy, but Gin," he laid a weather-worn hand on her shoulder, "I've never seen you looking so miserable."

"He lied to me, that's all," she answered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "He pretended to be something he wasn't. I believed the lies until it was too late to convince myself otherwise."

She swiped at a tear that had leaked from the corner of her eye before smiling up at Charlie.

"But I'm going to be just fine, especially with brothers like you and Bill looking after me." She pulled his hand from her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You think I could take a walk to see the dragons before sunset?"

"If you take my broom you should be able to make it," he replied, turning to retrieve his broom from a cupboard.

"Thanks Charlie," she called over her shoulder, already in the doorway.

She stepped from the porch and jumped, landing on the broom as it soared skyward.

* * *

_Goodbye my almost lover _

_Goodbye my hopeless dream _

_I'm trying not to think about you_

* * *

Ginny landed on a small hill near the paddock, taking care to be as quiet as possible. She had spotted several dragons sleeping inside the enclosure and knew from experience it was imperative not to disturb the slumbering creatures.

She settled onto the grass, laid the broom to the side and pulled her knees up to her chest.

It was twilight and the wind was starting to pick up, but she found the fading beauty of the day comforting. She rested her chin on her knees and let her gaze drift out across the field.

Something moved to the right of her line of vision and she jerked her head to get a better look.

A dragon was stirring.

A handsome dragon had flicked its tail, but was now curled up in a corner of the enclosure. She watched it, trying to remember what breed it was, and let her eyes roam over its smooth green hide. A common welsh green, she deduced, letting her mind wander back to the long days she had spent painting another one of Charlie's green dragons.

The animal in front of her snorted softly in its sleep, sending a jet of sparks from its nostrils and Ginny smiled to herself. She could almost see why Hagrid had found dragons so endearing. Almost.

The wind rustled the leaves of a nearby tree and she watched as a single leaf broke free and fell slowly to the ground. It was brown around the edges, clearing dying, and she knew if she took it in her hand it would crunch. Autumn was upon her and she found it quite ironic that the end of the summer season had coincided with the end of her relationship.

She sighed and finally let her heart open to the pain that had been building in her chest for days.

Before she could stop herself she was crying again. Crying harder than before she had left her apartment in London, because now she seemed to fully comprehend what she had almost had. And what she had lost.

She cried because she had even had so much to lose in the first place. She kept repeating to herself that everything he had told her had been a lie. It did not, however, ease the pain of anything.

In fact, it only made her ache worse.

She had never felt so betrayed and she had never felt so pathetic for letting someone else have such a hold on her happiness.

It was nearly dark when she lay back on the grass, pulling her robe tighter against the chilly autumn air. She let her palm splay open on the grass, feeling it between her fingers and trying not to remember how it reminded her of dancing barefoot at a summer concert.

She turned her attention to the stars and watched as they winked at her. She tried not to remember flying kites at midnight.

She cried until the ground about her face was muddy with her salty tears. When she could not find another drop to spill from her eyes, she resolved that she was finished crying.

She would visit Bill and Fleur in France for a few days, because she hadn't got to spend very much time with their new baby, Dominique. Ginny was lucky to have family and a few friends who loved her just as much as family.

These were the people she would surround herself with until the pieces of her heart mended.

And she knew they would mend.

They always had before, and there was no reason to believe they wouldn't now.

* * *

_So long my luckless romance _

_My back is turned on you _

_I should have known you'd bring me heartache_

_Almost lovers always do_

* * *

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Sir?"

"Sir, we need your approval before we can finalize the building plans for the new office in Germany."

A small, mousy-looking man was standing at the foot of a long table, his hands clearly trembling as he addressed the owner of Malfoy Enterprises.

Every seat around the enormous table was occupied, and everyone had been paying close attention as the mousy man had spoken.

Except for the man sitting at the head of the table.

Malfoy's eyes were downcast and he was glaring intently at the quill in front of him. He made no move to answer the man, and the people sitting around the table turned to observe Malfoy curiously.

"Mr. Malfoy?" The man tried again, raising his voice ever so slightly.

The man normally wasn't as timid, but the entire office had been talking about what a foul mood their boss had been in lately. Everyone had been tiptoeing around on eggshells since a man in marketing had been fired for accidentally bumping into Malfoy on the lift.

The mousy-looking man cleared his throat loudly and Malfoy's head jerked up as though someone had burned him.

Malfoy glanced around the table, and seeing all heads turned to him, his scowl increased. He had never been caught not paying attention and the embarrassment only served to anger him more.

"Sir?"

The man had a large blueprint pinned to the wall beside him and that was enough for Malfoy to presume why his attention had been sought.

"Have the changes we discussed at the last board meeting been implemented, or is the development department as incompetent as the marketing department?" Malfoys voice was harsh and commanding and the man seemed to shrink back from the sound of it.

"No sir, the development department is not-"

"If the blueprints are still not complete then I suggest you take them home to burn in your fireplace because you are about to find yourself without employment."

There was nothing but malice in Malfoys gaze.

"I meant to say, yes sir, the bluep-"

"Is it yes or no, you imbecile?" Malfoys voice was quiet, yet it seemed more intimidating than if he had been shouting.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy. The changes you requested have been incorporated into this new design." The man paused to wipe a streak of sweat from his brow. "With your approval today, we should be able to break ground next week."

"If, and that is a very large IF, I decide to approve your blueprints today, you will begin construction tomorrow."

The man opened his mouth to argue, but Malfoys eyes had narrowed to slits.

"Yes, sir. I can owl the construction crew as soon as I get your approv-"

"Please do not concern me with petty details."

Malfoy stopped to shuffle through the papers that were stacked neatly beside him. He extracted a thick file and opened it with a snap.

"Is this the revised plan?"

"Yes, sir."

The man seemed to hold his breath and the room was eerily quiet as Malfoy studied each page carefully. After a tedious and silent ten minutes, Malfoy gripped his quill and signed his name on the bottom of the last page.

He closed the folder sharply and pushed it forward, towards the man at the other end of the table.

"I shall expect a process report at the end of every week." He raked his chair back suddenly and stood with a flourish. "Good day to you all."

He exited the room before anyone could attempt to start a conversation. He took slight delight in the way people moved to the far side of the hallway when he passed. He realized he had been hell to work with lately.

He could not be bothered to care.

He nodded to his secretary as he entered his office.

He glanced at the place on his desk where her photograph had been, then moved quickly to the window. The afternoon sun was shining brightly on Diagon Alley and he watched as shoppers moved about happily.

It was stupid really, he thought, to let a silly girl affect him so much and for such a long while.

He was just about to turn back to his desk, intent on staying as busy as possible, when a flash of red caught his eye.

He was certain he had seen it in front of Flourish and Blotts, so he squinted his eyes against the glaring sun and searched the heads in the crowd for the red that had caught his eye. He finally spotted the source of his searching; a young girl, no older than 12, was skipping along the cobblestone street, her shining red hair billowing out behind her.

He let out a frustrated sound and hit the glass of the window with his palm. It made him nauseous to realize his heart had stopped at the mere sight of red hair.

He turned from the window and headed to his desk to arrange his things.

Just then, his secretary, Karin, rapped sharply on his door and stuck her head in.

"You're five minutes late for your meeting at Gringotts, you've got another meeting first thing in the morning, you're mother Flooed for you earlier and I've a letter from your contact at the ministry," she announced, shuffling through the papers in her hands.

"Cancel everything," he said quietly, slipping his quills into a drawer in his desk. "My mother is expected home soon and things must be in order. I'll be out of the office for a few days."

"Thank heavens," she said.

He jerked his head up to glare at her.

"Well, you've been a frightful mess all week. Some rest and relaxation at home will have to be better than sulking around here, shouting at people," she said bravely.

If he hadn't been so tired and if he hadn't appreciated the hard work she did, he would have sent her home for her unasked-for honesty.

Instead, he elected to ignore her and continued to sneer while he moved to retrieve his traveling cloak from the coat rack in the corner.

"What did my mother say?" he asked, allowing her to help him pull the cloak on.

"She'll be home Friday evening very late. She said to tell you not to wait for her for dinner."

"And my letter?"

"Oh, I nearly forgot!"

She pulled the envelop from the papers in her hands and handed it to him before stepping back outside his office.

He slit the letter open at once and scanned the words quickly.

"_She's in France with her brother and his family. Talk to her."_

He gritted his teeth for a moment and scrawled a reply on the back of the note.

"_I can't. There's no way I could just walk up to her and tell her everything. She would never understand. And I cannot explain everything to her. I just can't. I don't want to endanger her life anymore than I already have. I won't."_

He sealed the letter within a fresh envelope and handed it to Karin before turning on the spot.

* * *

The house was dark when he arrived, even though the sun was still shining high in the sky.

He called a few house elves to him and ordered them to set the house exactly as his mother had left it.

He watched idly as the house buzzed around. There were creatures moving here and there to clean things and fix what he had neglected during his mothers absence. He turned then and headed to the dining room for an early supper.

After staring at his uneaten dinner for several long minutes, he refilled his wine goblet and trudged up the stairs, heading towards his bedroom. He had been avoiding the room, choosing instead to sleep in a guest bedroom. Suddenly it seemed childish and he laughed rudely to himself as he flung open the door.

* * *

_Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of your life?_

* * *

It was dark outside. He had been doing paperwork at the small desk in his room for hours. An empty bottle of wine lay discarded in the rubbish bin and his goblet was half empty.

He made a note at the bottom of a proposal he had been reading over and stopped to down the rest of his wine. He sat the goblet down and the clink of the glass on the wood almost drowned out the sound of an owl tapping on his bedroom window.

He stood and swayed slightly on his feet, feeling the effects of the wine, before moving to the window to let the owl inside. It swooped in immediately, dropped a letter in his hand and left just as quickly.

This letter was different than the one he had received earlier in the evening. This one was from a colleague, asking him why he had missed two very important meetings. He snorted with anger when he read the note.

"Who are they to dictate the entirety of my life?" he choked out to himself, feeling trapped all of a sudden and so angry he could hardly see properly.

He crumpled the note into his fist. He pulled his wand from an inner pocket of his robes and lit a fire before tossing the note into the crackling flames. He watched the edges of the parchment blacken and burn before he glanced up.

A reflection caught his eye.

In the vase on the mantle he could just make out the reflection of the dragon painting behind him.

He watched as it flickered with the flames of the fire and he realized, quite brutally, why he had been avoiding this room. A pain shot through his chest and his eyes were suddenly stinging painfully.

He seized the vase from the mantle and whipped around, throwing it as hard as he could at the painting. He watched as the glass shattered around the canvas and nearly screamed in frustration when he realized the canvas was unscathed.

Neville must have put a protective charm on the painting.

He turned towards the loo and jerked a tiny blue bottle from a cabinet within. He uncorked the bottle and downed the contents in one gulp.

He staggered to the bed and discarded his robes before slipping between the green silk sheets. He closed his eyes then, willing away all thoughts, and let the sleeping potion take effect.

* * *

_You sang me Spanish lullabies_

_The sweetest sadness in your eyes_

_Clever trick_

* * *

The bed shifted.

He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the soft glow of the firelight, and knew at once that it was still dark.

Draco felt the bed move again and he turned his head to see a sleeping form curled up beside him.

His eyes focused on the pale, ivory skin and he could not resist the urge to reach out and touch her.

He let out a breath he had been unaware he was holding when he felt her warm, smooth skin under his fingertips.

He stroked the skin on her shoulder and watched with baited breath as she rolled over towards him.

Her eyes were open and he would have recognized their green color anywhere.

She moved her small hands around to his shoulders and he melted against her touch.

She leaned her head up towards him, her hair shining golden around them. He moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her towards him, moving his head closer to her face.

She grinned at him then, moving her lips towards his ear.

His skin tingled when he felt the warmth of her breath tickling his ear.

"I've missed you, Draco," she breathed.

He pulled back enough to look in her eyes and see that she meant it, before moving his head back down towards her lips.

He could feel her breath on his lips then, could almost taste her, and he wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss her and lose himself in her warmth all over again….

He woke with a start.

Sweat trickled down his back and across his face.

He was twisted in the blankets and breathing as if he had been running at full speed. He muttered a wandless spell and flinched as the curtains were wrenched open and bright sunlight filled the room. When his eyes had adjusted to the light he inspected the bed around him.

Empty.

He'd had the dream before, and this time was no different. There was no trace of her and no possible way she could have gotten past the wards on his estate.

He yanked the blankets off him and strode towards the shower, cursing his dreams and his ruined heart.

* * *

_I cannot wake up in the morning _

_Without you on my mind _

_So you're gone and I'm haunted _

_And I'll bet you are just fine_

* * *

Shell Cottage was the perfect refuge for Ginny.

The sun and the sea and the loveliness of children had lifted Ginny's spirits better than anything else had been able to do thus far.

She had been there for several days now, helping Fleur with the children when Bill went to work in London every morning.

Dominique was barely a few months old, beautiful and blonde, the very image of her mother. Her laugh was like tinkling bells and it warmed Ginny's heart in ways nothing else had ever done before.

Victoire was three years old, and although she bore a great resemblance to her mother as well, her personality was Bill in miniature form. And she had a tiny mischievous streak in her that was obviously from her favorite uncles, Fred and George.

It was Ginny's last day at the cottage.

She had to return to London for her job and Bill, Fleur and the children were coming along for Hermione and Harry's wedding. But Ginny and baby Dominique had decided to spend the day by the seashore, playing silly games and laughing too loudly. Ginny had packed a picnic lunch for herself and now Dominique was sleeping peacefully on the blanket, the afternoon sun making her white-blonde hair sparkle like diamonds.

Ginny smiled at the baby and moved one of her blonde ringlets off her forehead. She felt a pang in her chest suddenly, loving and hating the thought that this could have been her blonde-haired baby. She stroked Dominique's face with the back of her hand, and smiled again.

"Someday," she whispered, her voice blending with that of the ocean breeze. "Someday."

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, gazing tenderly at the baby, until she heard Fleur calling for them in the distance.

In a moment, Fleur had appeared just behind Ginny, Victoire seated snuggly on her hip.

"Ginny, we've got to finish ze packing tonight," Fleur said, a little breathlessly. "I promised Bill we would be ready to leave first thing in ze morning."

"Yes, yes of course. I'm sorry," Ginny replied, smiling as she scooped Dominique from the blanket. She used her wand to fold the blanket into the basket before grasping the basket in her free hand. "We can't miss the rehearsal, can we?"

"Of course not," Fleur replied, grinning and setting off towards the cottage with Ginny following behind.

* * *

_I'd never want to see you unhappy_

_I thought you'd want the same for me _

* * *

The smoke has not yet cleared, was still curling around the steeple of the tiny church and the salty breeze could not blow away the stench of death and destruction.

Home after home along the winding street of the small coastal town had been blasted during the attack. Gaping holes were visible on the sides of some houses; cars were strewn about on the road, some of them lying on their tops and several electric poles had been uprooted.

A tiny training bicycle lay in the middle of the street, the back tire still spinning slowly.

The town was deathly quiet and there was no movement from within the rubble of the houses.

A strange symbol of lights hung low in the sky above the church, but there was only one person left in the area to observe it.

The cloaked figure was stopped on the front steps of the church, scribbling a quick note on a scrap of parchment.

An owl was waiting on the railing beside the steps and did not move until the man had sealed the note and held it out to the animal. The owl clutched the note in one of its talons and took flight.

The man took one last look back over the desolate town, secured the hood that covered his face, and disappeared in an instant.

* * *

_We walked along a crowded street _

_You took my hand and danced with me _

_Images _

* * *

Draco was taking his dinner in the drawing room when he saw the owl land on the windowsill.

He tucked his napkin beside his plate and made his way over to the window to let the bird in.

As soon as the owl swooped into the room, Draco could smell the faint scent of smoke.

And blood.

He jerked the letter from the animal and sent it away, slamming the window shut and sitting back at the table. He tore the letter open and read it by the candles on the table.

"_You've just missed another night of fun. The entire town is decimated, like always. Although this town seems to have been less prepared as the other places have been. Just proves the damned French are getting too comfortable, the lazy fools. Anyway, if you miss another meeting, I'll be forced to-"_

"Wait. France?" Draco whispered.

Quickly, he scanned the letter again and again, hoping he was reading it wrong.

_France._

The word glared at him brightly from the yellowed parchment and he felt certain that his heart would never beat again.

"_She's in France……"_

His head was spinning and he could not feel his limbs. He let the letter slip from his fingers and fall to the floor.

"…_in France with her brother…."_

His chest was constricting at an alarming pace and he felt as if the room was spinning. He stood quickly, knocking the table with his knees and headed towards the crackling fire. He grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder and tossed it into the flames before getting to his knees and thrusting his head into the swirling flames.

The flat was dark and quiet, but he prayed that it was not empty.

"Hello?!" He shouted. "Is there anyone home? This is an emergency!"

His voice echoed around the walls of the living room and he felt his fear and irritation increasing. He could just see into the dining room from his position in the fireplace. His breath caught in his throat when he realized the table was still set for dinner. One candle was barely burning, and he could tell from the plates that dinner had been interrupted and the occupants of the apartment had left in a hurry.

He tried one last time to rouse someone from the house, even though it was clear no one was home, before pulling his head back through the flames.

"…_the damned French…town is decimated…"_

Pain was shot through his knees from where he had hit the table and been kneeling on the floor.

He let out a yell of rage as he got to his feet, grabbing the edge of the table and flipping it over, sending the food and dishes crashing to the floor.

A house elf appeared by the mess, obviously under the impression the table had fallen accidentally.

The creature looked up at Draco, saw the fury and pain on his face, and disappeared again.

His breathing was ragged as he turned away from the mess, pressing his eyes closed and trying not to think.

But the words from the letter were burning in Draco's mind and he wanted nothing but to shut them out, to make the pain stop and be finished with all this horrible nonsense.

"…_in France with her brother…entire town is decimated…"_

He was crying now. Crying like he could not remember ever crying before. He could not think straight. He felt as if he were outside his body and this strange place was not reality.

She was surely injured, or worse, and it was entirely _his _fault.

He grasped at everything he could get his hands on, sending piece after piece of glass sailing across the room, hoping the sound of breaking glass would somehow make the pain of his mistake hurt less.

* * *

_And when you left you kissed my lips _

_You told me you would never ever forget _

_These images_

* * *

"Draco?"

A delicate feminine voice rang out across the entrance hall.

"Draco, darling, I'm home," Narcissa called, sitting her bags on the floor. "Where are you?"

A house elf appeared suddenly and Narcissa instructed that her bags be taken up to her bedchambers.

"Oh, and where is my son?" she asked.

The elf visibly shuttered and Narcissa drew a worried breath.

"In the drawing room, ma'am," squeaked the elf.

"Thank you," Narcissa replied, draping her cloak over the elf's arm and turning towards the drawing room.

There was a disconcerting feeling emanating from the house and Narcissa opened the door cautiously.

Her breath caught in her throat when she took in the sight laid out before her.

It seemed her son had completely destroyed almost every breakable item in the room.

She took a step inside, careful to avoid the jagged shards of glass littering most of the floor, and scanned the room for her son.

She found him sleeping restlessly on the settee in the corner, tossing and turning and mumbling things she could not quite discern from across the room. She took several more steps into the room and used her wand to light what was left of the lamp beside the settee.

The light was dim on his face, but she could see the red splotches around his eyes that could only mean he had been crying.

This worried her far more than the angry destruction of her drawing room. She could count on her fingers the number of times she had ever seen her son cry. She could sense it, even in his troubled sleep, that something had gone horribly wrong.

She studied him for a moment, noticing the thin lines at the corners of his eyes, wondering what had happened to cause him such anger and such obvious pain.

She turned her back to him for a moment and cleaned the room with several quick sweeps of her wand. Everything had been repaired and was back in its proper place before she located a blanket for Draco.

She was not about to wake him, not especially since she had spotted the dark circles underneath his eyes.

She unfolded the blanket and laid it gently on top of him, glad he had not stirred while she had cleaned. She tucked the edges around his torso and sat softly on the edge of the settee.

A strand of white-blond hair, the same color as her own, had fallen onto his face and she reached her hand out to brush it aside. His skin was cold to her touch and he moved his head against her fingers. His mouth opened and she thought he might have said something, but it was so faint she could not make out what it had been.

She rubbed her thumb across his cheek, hoping to soothe away his nightmare, and leaned forward as he mumbled again in his sleep.

"Ginny….." he breathed.

Narcissa pulled her hand away and watched as his face scrunched up as if he were in great pain.

"Ginny….Ginny, no," he whispered, he moved suddenly, a hand reaching out across his abdomen and Narcissa stood to move out of his reach. "Ginny, don't leave me…"

His voice, even in sleep, carried so much tenderness and pain that Narcissa felt her own heart ache.

She reached out to him again, and touched his cheek lightly.

"Shhh, my darling," she whispered. "I'm here…"

He stilled then, seeming to slip back into a somewhat peaceful sleep.

Narcissa stood again, smoothing her robes and extinguishing the lamp.

She turned back towards her son when she reached the door. She gazed at Draco for a moment more, contemplating what had happened in her absence, before quietly stepping from the room and closing the door behind her.

* * *

_I'd never want to see you unhappy _

_I thought you'd want the same for me _

* * *

**A/N: Well, I hope that wasn't too depressing for you guys. **

**I had several readers asking about Draco, so I thought I'd give you a smidgen of insight into his take on things. **

**Although keep in mind, not everything has been explained. It's not that hard to figure out though, so I'm fairly sure I'm correct in assuming most of you have put the pieces together by now. **

**Don't forget though, there are some things that are still important. Percy for example, or have you forgotten? Go back to chapter 2 and refresh your memory if you have. **

**Anyway, **_**read and review**_**! No really, read AND review. You have no idea (unless you're an author yourself) how exciting it is to sign in to your e-mail and see all those lovely reviews! **

**Happy Easter!**

**Have a fabulous week!**

* * *


	17. Minutes Without You

**Chapter 17 – Minutes Without You**

* * *

**A/N: It seems I'm always apologizing for taking so long to update, but life seems to get in the way quite often. I know this chapter is on the shorter side, (compared to some of the more recent ones) but hang in there. There are only 3 more chapters to go, and I wanted to get this one up soon because I'm afraid you guys are losing interest. **

**Please, enjoy the chapter, especially as we near the end of this particular adventure. I'll be looking for new story ideas soon, so I hope there's someone out there with a few good suggestions. Don't forget to drop me a review: I'd be entirely grateful.**

**This chapter's song is Snow Patrol – "Open Your Eyes"**

_**Disclaimer: I'm not sure if I've ever included a disclaimer before, but I figure it can't hurt. All of the people and places you recognize belong to JK Rowling. Anything or anyone you do not recognize (especially the made up AU parts of the plot) are mine. Song lyrics are certainly not mine and I believe I've named the artist and the song at some point or another. Obviously, the title of this story is from the Over the Rhine song of the same name and most of the chapter titles are taken from the songs that inspired the chapter. If I've left someone out, someone please remind me. **_

* * *

_All this feels strange and untrue _

_And I won't waste a minute without you_

* * *

The entire wizarding community was buzzing.

The Dark Mark had not yet faded from the night sky in France before the news of the first major attack on a town since Voldemort's defeat had spread throughout the country and throughout Britain.

Ginny had been sitting by the window in her old bedroom at the Burrow, watching the way her breath left warm clouds on the cold glass when Harry had stepped inside to say hello.

Before long, a familiar discussion had been brought round again.

"Ginny, for the absolute last time, you're being absurd," Harry said, more sternly that she would have thought possible from him. "Draco Malfoy is _not_, and was never, to my knowledge, a Death Eater. You're being unreasonable. You, of all people, should know him better than to still be accusing him of such things."

His tone had silenced her and she only glared stubbornly. He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair in a way that was all too common lately.

"Think about what you're saying, Gin, what you're implying."

"I have and I'm not implying. Why does it seem like there's something very crucial to all this that you just aren't telling me?"

"Because there is and _no_, I cannot tell you." She stared daggers at him; daring him to deny her the information she so longed for and needed. "_However, _I can help you remember some very pertinent details I think you may have forgotten."

Harry paused, the faint sounds of laughter floating up through the cracked window from somewhere below. Harry waited for the noise to dissipate. Ginny stood, tapping her foot impatiently, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"Ginny, I'd like to think you never saw him na-…." here Harry trailed off, looking immensely uncomfortable.

"Never saw him what, Harry?"

"Naked, Ginny,"

"What?!"

Her face had reddened and her eyes were open wide in disbelief.

"Don't panic, Ginny, it's very relevant to what you've been harassing me about for weeks now. I'm assuming you _have_ seen him starkers, much as it nauseates me, but I'd like to ask you if you ever paid any attention to his left forearm."

He stopped to look at her significantly and for a moment she simply looked at him blankly.

"What does it matter if I ever noticed his left arm? That's completely pointlessss….." She trailed off, realization hitting her like a raging hippogriff.

Her stomach seemed to drop to her knees and she struggled to breath.

Harry only nodded, a grim expression of understanding crossing his face.

"And did you note anything of interest on the skin there? What did it look like? Anything to be concerned about?"

"No," she whispered, her voice cracking. "No, there was nothing there."

She raised a hand to cover her mouth and Harry noticed her fingers were trembling.

This was all so much to take in. She felt sure her memories were betraying her, but wouldn't she have noticed an ugly glaring tattoo?

Harry placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her a bit closer, looking down into her eyes.

He was not surprised to see tears shining there.

"I can't disclose anything more to you. I just can't. No details about any of the things you've been asking me. I've taken a vow and it's one I simply cannot break." He stopped and watched as she nodded stiffly. "I have to get back to the dinner now, are you going to be alright?"

"Ye – yes," she breathed, moving her hand to swipe at the single tear that had spilled down her cheek.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'll be fine." Her voice was stronger now and Harry turned.

He was almost to the door when he heard her. He stopped, his fingers barely touching the doorknob.

"Harry?" Her voice was quiet, but determined.

"Yes?" He did not turn to look at her.

"Thank you."

He simply nodded, slipping quietly from the room.

* * *

_My bones ache, my skin feels cold_

_And I'm getting so tired and so old_

* * *

"Now is the time for action a bit closer to home. The attacks in France have done more to spread doubt and fear than anything we could have hoped for. We _must_ strike again, and someplace where it will be felt more… _intensely._"

The authoritative tone of the hooded man at the head of the table had caught Draco's attention. He sat up straighter in his chair. Draco inclined his head a bit to the right, leaning in as the man continued, his voice gaining volume and severity as he spoke.

"_Hogwarts."_

The air seemed to have been sucked from the darkened room at the utterance of the word.

The other figures crowded around the long table sat unmoving, every head turned towards the speaker.

"The students at Hogwarts, and teachers, for that matter, have become lax with security. They perceive any threat to have been _destroyed, _making them a most vulnerable target. The students will be enjoying a Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks time."

At once it seemed the life had been thrust back inside the room. The cloaked figures began whispering in excited and rushed tones, their gestures exaggerated by the shadows cast from the candles littering the table.

Silence descended on the room the moment the man at the head of the table scooted his chair back across the stone floor and stood.

"_We will be waiting for them."_

* * *

_The anger swells in my guts_

_And I won't feel these slices and cuts_

_I want so much to open your eyes_

_'Cause I need you to look into mine_

* * *

Ginny smoothed the perfectly straight satin of her dress and leaned against a large stained glass window, breathing heavily.

She let her sweaty palms rest on the smooth, cool glass and took several deep breaths. There was movement all around her, people fluttering around with last minute details and checking that everyone was in their proper place.

Somewhere behind large oak doors she could hear faint music. She glanced at a large grandfather clock in the corner of the entrance hall and smiled, leaning down to pick up the small bouquet she has sat carefully on the floor.

Harry and Hermione would be husband and wife in little more than an hour.

She tucked a loose strand of hair back into her bun and plastered a not-so-fake smile on her lips. She turned and headed back towards the door where Hermione was buttoning and straightening and generally fussing over her appearance more than she had during her entire lifetime.

Ginny stopped at Hermione's door, glancing towards the main sanctuary doors of the Ottery St. Catchpole Church, watching as Harry and several of her brothers started their walk down the isle.

She knocked sharply on the door twice before cracking it open.

"Hermione, love, you look brilliant," she called, meaning every word as she took in the beauty of her best friend.

Hermione was standing in front of a full-length mirror gazing at her reflection as if she did not recognize the woman in front of her.

"But if you don't get your gorgeous behind out the door this moment, you're going to miss out on your own wedding."

Hermione smiled at Ginny's reflection in the mirror before pulling the veil carefully over her face.

"Ready?" Ginny asked, opening the door wider.

"Ready."

Ginny held the door open for Hermione to pass before taking her own place in the wedding processional.

* * *

_Tell me that you'll open your eyes…_

* * *

It had been easy for Ginny to get caught up in all the wedding fuss and forget to think about her own issues.

First it had been the planning. If she never saw a color swatch of ribbon or flower arrangement again, it would be too soon. Then it had been the shopping, followed by countless hours and evenings spent decorating the church and the reception area at the Burrow, which had incidentally been so thoroughly cleaned it was hardly recognizable. The past several days had been spent polishing, getting ready, double-checking and gathering everything together.

It seemed ironic that now, after all the tedious planning, the actual event was flying by as if everyone was moving at a breakneck pace.

Somehow Ginny had found her spot at the front of the church, had struggled not to cry as Hermione and Harry had gazed at each other with so much love and adoration.

After that, she had relaxed a bit and tuned out the goings-on of the ceremony choosing instead to let her mind wander freely for the first time in weeks.

She was gazing towards the back of the large room when she noticed movement and came back to full attention at once. She squinted slightly, studying a large shadow in a darkened corner when she caught a flash of a white-blond head and gasped loudly.

"Gin?" Harry had muttered the word from the corner of his mouth, a pained expression on his face.

It was then that Ginny felt the eyes of the entire audience turned on her.

The wizard officiating the ceremony cleared his throat loudly and looked at Ginny meaningfully.

Somehow she managed to drag the phrase "object" and "forever hold his peace" from the recesses of her mind before blushing a shade of red so deep she felt sure she was glowing.

She shook her head stiffly and Harry looked relieved enough to cry. When all attention was again back on the happy couple, Ginny let her eyes drift back to the corner and nearly chocked on her own tongue.

There standing just inside the shadows was Draco Malfoy, looking as heartbreakingly handsome as always, as though the last months had not affected him in any way whatsoever.

The entire world seemed to melt away as she felt the burn of his gaze.

His eyes were hard and cold and she wondered how she could ever have thought him warm or kind or caring.

She couldn't remember blinking as they stood there staring at each other, then before she knew what was happening, sounds were rushing back in on her. The church was there, Luna was behind her urging her to move back up the isle and she tore her eyes from his for a split second.

The ceremony was over.

People were standing and applauding and when she looked for him again, the corner was empty. She could not tell if that vague, haunted feeling was anger, regret or disappointment and she tried to drown it as she let herself be ushered from the church and into a waiting car.

* * *

_Get up, get out, get away from these liars_

_'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire_

* * *

Several white tents had been erected in the backyard of the Burrow for the reception.

Given the time of year, heating charms had been placed on the tents and several wizards had shed their cloaks as people began moving around the dancing area.

Ginny was sitting alone at a table near the corner, sipping a Firewhiskey and hoping she could somehow manage to blend in with the tent wall behind her.

She drummed her fingernails on the white line tablecloth and stared out across the dance floor. The song was a slow, sultry number and it seemed almost everyone had found a partner. She scanned the crowd, spotting a few old classmates before she caught sight of her parents. They were dancing closely and looking for all the world that it had just been the two of them that had gotten married.

She sighed and picked up her fork. She let it sink into the moist chocolate cake and dipped the piece to her lips. It was rich and delicious, but as she chewed she realized it was not so good as to block out what her mind would not let rest.

She had been replaying the appearance of Malfoy over and over in her head. Each time she ran the events of the afternoon over in her mind, she added more and more questions to the pile. Had it really been him? Why had he come _now, _when there had been so many better opportunities? How exactly had he gotten into the building undetected? What had he hoped to gain? _Why?_

She had just come to the conclusion that she must have hallucinated the whole ordeal when she caught the distinct smell of his cologne.

She shook her head, hoping to rid herself of thoughts about him and stood, aiming for the door of the tent. Surely a nice dose of fresh, freezing air would bring her back to her senses.

She pulled back the flap of tent in the corner and immediately felt her skin prickle when the blast of cold air hit her skin. She pulled her wrap tightly around her shoulders and stepped towards the nearest clump of trees, hoping their shadow would conceal her from her family long enough to have a few quiet moments to herself.

She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes, letting the cold night air fill her lungs.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed in that position before she sensed another presence in front of her.

She snapped her eyes open, preparing to give one of her brothers a harsh telling-off, but stopped before she had finished drawing breath.

"_You."_

He was an arms-length from her and she felt her head spin from his sudden materialization.

He said nothing; just stood in front of her, holding her gaze with such intensity she felt for sure that he had used magic to bind her to the spot.

"Before you curse me, or murder me, or scream for help, just give me two minutes to explain a few things I should have told you from the beginning. _Please._"

For reasons she could not quite understand, she felt anger surge within her.

For weeks she had not seen or heard a single word about him. Now here he was, standing in front of her, at her parents' house, asking that she listen to whatever nonsense he had to say.

He interrupted her silence as agreement and continued.

"I – I don't know where to start," he breathed, his hard façade breaking for a moment.

"How about you start with the part where you lied to me about _everything?_" She demanded, suddenly feeling all the hurt and betrayal of his actions bearing down on her.

"There were circumstances involved that you knew nothing about - "

"You could have told me." Her voice was quiet, but her tone told a different story. She knew he would be perceptive to the feeling behind it. "You could have trusted me as much as I trusted you."

"Ginny, it wasn't, it isn't, that simple." His voice was rising, was almost pleading now. "There were, and still are for Merlin's sake, things going on behind the scenes that I cannot tell you. I don't want to endanger you any more than I already have!"

"_Endanger me?_ Are you _serious_?! What world are you living in? Because from where I'm standing, we're breathing the _same_ air in the _same_ place, and we've been through the same damned war and we've _both_ lost people we cared about. People are always watching out for poor, innocent Ginny," she was seething now, raising her hand to his chest. "They seem to forget, just like you _Draco Malfoy, _that one of my brothers was badly injured in the war and another one gave his _life_ in that same war."

"How could I _possibly_ forget? _It was my father who murdered him_."

Draco spat the words, a look self-loathing on his face.

"Pe-Percy?" The ground seemed to have turned to paste and Ginny was not sure whether she could, or should, breathe.

Draco grimaced, as though the sound of the name caused him physical pain.

"I tried to tell you," Draco explained, his words coming out in a pained rush. "I tried to tell you a dozen times, but how exactly do you start that sort of conversation?" He grinned in a terrifying sort of way, as though merely speaking the words disgusted him. "It was during the last battle, towards the end and I had already realized my father's side was losing. I tried to stop my father when I saw him dueling with your brother, Percy. Harry had cornered Voldemort by then and it was useless to be wasting time and energy fighting with Percy. Ginny, I tried to stop him, I swear. But he stunned me, _my own father,_ and when I came to…" His voice cracked and he stopped to swallow deeply. "When I woke up, I saw him, Percy…he was already dead."

He stood there, his eyes filled with tears, begging her to understand. She could feel nothing but numb disbelief.

The sharp crack of her hand on his check echoed in the clearing and she was not aware when she had raised her hand to strike him.

The sting of her hand hurt in a satisfying sort of way and she lifted her arm to strike him again, to make him feel some inkling of the pain he had intentionally or inadvertently caused her.

But his hand caught hers before she could make contact with his skin again.

"Get your hands off me!" Her voice was raised in a shrill bellow, but she did not care.

"No," he replied, wrapping his fingers around the upper part of her other arm. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I know it's not enough and I know there's nothing I can do to change what I've done or haven't done, but _dammit_ Ginny, I'm _so_ sorry."

She raised her eyes to his face for a minute, was coherent enough to see the sincerity and pain in his eyes and stopped struggling.

He took advantage of her sudden submission and pulled her to him roughly, pressing his lips to hers and kissing her as though his very existence depended on it.

For a moment, she forgot everything. She let him kiss her, let herself give in to her heart, let his lips linger on hers and let his tongue explore her mouth as it had the time they had first kissed all those months ago.

She leaned into him, felt his strong arms wrap around her in such a familiar way that she wanted nothing more than to become a part of him and stay warm and safe for all eternity.

Just as suddenly, everything he had divulged moments before came crashing back to the front of her mind and she pushed him away forcefully.

They were both panting slightly and Draco looked confused.

"I can't do this," she breathed, pulling her wand from a pocket in her dress and pointing it towards his chest. "Stay away from me."

Ginny lingered for a moment, taking in the sight of him, mussed hair, swollen lips, beautiful pain-filled eyes, before disappearing with a quiet _pop._

* * *

_Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine_

_And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time_

* * *

Ginny knew she was in no condition to face inquiring or happy faces at the reception, so she chose instead to go back to her apartment, feeling it was late enough in the evening that her presence would not really be missed from the party.

She appeared in the living room and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. She cast a silent _lumos_ and glanced around the spacious room.

She found her apartment was exactly as she had left it; slightly bare from the purging she had done before leaving for Romania, but comforting and familiar all the same.

Abruptly, she knew what she needed to do for the time being. She set off tearing around the apartment, searching for any traces of him she had somehow overlooked.

Half an hour later she was sitting in front of the fireplace in her bedroom, her bridesmaid gown puffed around her, watching as a fire roared to life. She had found nothing else of Draco until she had opened her bedside table.

There, in the very bottom, she had found a few pencil sketches she had made of Draco several months ago.

She glanced at them for a second before tossing them into the crackly flames. She sat back on her heels and watches as the parchment crinkled and burned within the bright flames of the fire.

Once she felt sure she had successfully destroyed every trace of him, she stood and picked up her heels from where she had tossed them to the floor.

She moved to the closet and let the shoes fall back onto the floor. One shoe toppled back out of the closet and when she bent down to push it back behind the door, she noticed something she had missed during her previous hunt.

There, tucked into a corner of her closet was a pair of men's socks she knew could only belong to one person. The sight of them brought a rush of memories back so vividly, she thought for a moment she had fallen inside a pensieve.

_She had moved stealthily and sat on top of his knees so that he could not wiggle free when she slipped his shoes off. "Ginny, please don't – "_

_He felt a cool blast of air on his feet and watched as she balled his socks together and placed them inside one of his discarded shoes. _

" – _take my socks off."_

She pushed the rack of clothes back so she could squeeze into the closet where the socks had somehow ended up.

She picked the balled socks up and looked at them, feeling a lump rise in her throat.

She pulled her wand back out and pointed it at the socks, murmuring quietly and watching as the edges of the garments began to smoke.

She would have let them burn, had she not glanced up and noticed the crumpled lavender sundress crammed beside where the socks had been.

She sighed and cast a cooling charm on the socks, then bent to pick up the dress.

She brought it to her face, inhaling the faint aroma of saltwater and strawberries still lingering on the fabric.

Ginny pulled a hanger from the clothes rod and slid the dress onto it, tucking the socks into the dress' pocket before turning and shutting the closet door behind her.

* * *

_I want so much to open your eyes_

_'Cause I need you to look into mine_

* * *

**A/N:**

**Well, what'd you think? Worth the wait? I hope so, but if not, rest assured that the next few chapters will probably be better. In fact, I've already written the next chapter, I just need to re-read through it and make some corrections. Actually, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to re-read through the entire story, once I'm finished, and edit the entirety of it. What'd you think?**

**As always, don't forget to REVIEW! **

**Hope everyone is having a lovely spring (if it's spring in your part of the world, of course.)**

* * *


	18. Go to Him

_Chapter 18 – "Go to Him"_

* * *

**A/N: Finally! This is the chapter I have been pining to write. And it's ironic, because you probably won't even like it the best and it didn't really turn out as well as I'd hoped. I just absolutely LOVE this song and it moves me every time I hear it. I find it heartbreakingly beautiful. For the full effect you should listen to it on repeat while reading the chapter.**

**What song is it, you ask? **

**Joni Mitchell - "A Case of You"**

**Read and Review!**

* * *

_Just before our love got lost you said,_

_"I am as constant as a northern star."_

_And I said, "Constantly in the darkness_

_Where's that at?"_

* * *

The sky was overcast and gray above Hogsmeade.

It looked like snow would be falling before nightfall, but that usually didn't stop the Hogwarts students from visiting and it certainly would not stop those who planned on making the day unforgettable.

Anyone who looked in on the sleepy wizarding town would not have noticed anything out of place, for it was generally acceptable for a few suspicious-looking persons to be loitering around, especially nears the Hog's Head.

And one would have had to look exceptionally closely to spot the many hiding spots the Death Eaters had found, for they had been waiting in those spots since before sunrise.

It was just after breakfast when the first figures started emerging from the castle just up the winding road from Hosgsmeade.

Their presence heading towards the village made the Death Eaters' pulses quicken.

The temperatures were just below freezing and the wind had been howling all morning, so it was not surprising to see the figures from the castle wrapped snuggly in thick winter cloaks, hoods pulled protectively around their faces.

The surprise came when the group of people from the castle, numbering nearly 80, did not bustle about the town, popping into shops here and there, but instead gathered in the center of the village.

There was a moment of tense confusion and suspicion and the air practically hummed with magic before the dam broke and the battle began.

It was an young, impatient Death Eater who fired the first curse, and he would have been surprised to have that curse returned to him, had he not been stunned so quickly.

"What in the blazes is going on here?!" Someone shouted from the alleyway between Honeydukes and the apothecary.

Curses were flying from the group of "students" and Death Eater's were falling from all around their concealed locations.

"We've been sabotaged!"

"Those ain't students, those are Aurors! And Harry bloody Potter!"

Suddenly recognizable faces were everywhere.

Aurors and teachers were emerging in the fray, fighting to protect the safety of students who had been ordered to forgo their Hogsmeade visit this time around.

Headmistress McGonagal had even been spotted dueling with a masked figure just outside the Three Broomsticks.

It was this scene that met Ginny's eyes when she Apparated to Hogsmeade that morning, having just gotten the information about the attack from her father minutes before.

"Still trying to protect me," she mumbled, turning to observe the chaos and stunning a Death Eater in the process.

She had battled three others before she caught up with Hermione and Ron.

"What are you doing here, Ginny?" Ron demanded.

"Heard my brother was getting in on all the action," she called over her shoulder, sending a leg-locker curse at a short man, before turning to address Ron, "thought he could use some help."

"Ginny, you shouldn't be here," Hermione said, sending a Patronus off to who Ginny assumed was Harry.

Seconds later Harry's stag was by Hermione's side, informing her that the majority of Death Eater's had been captured, a few had fled during the ambush, and only a couple were left dueling.

It was as Harry's Patronus faded that Ginny caught sight of Draco.

He has just emerged from around the corner of Hogs Head and was headed their way. Ginny did not feel shocked to find him there, not at all like the time she had seen him in Turkmenistan. The numbness in her chest was too overwhelming for her to be capable of feeling much else.

When he got closer, she noticed he had a nasty gash across his cheek. She wondered which side had given it to him.

He turned towards Ron, who had run off to duel with a tall man in black robes and mask, and Ginny raised her wand to fire a curse at Draco.

Hermione must have noticed the direction of Ginny's wand, because she turned at once and moved forward.

"Ginny no!" Hermione shouted.

Ginny glanced at Hermione for a second, but did not lower her wand. Her mouth curved around the syllables of the curse before she could process what Hermione was saying.

"Ginny, you can't! He's one of us! He's in the Order!" Hermione yelled.

Ginny let her arm fall at once and jerked her head to look at Draco. He must have heard Hermione's shouting, because he had stopped and when his eyes met Ginny's, she knew Hermione had been telling the truth.

Before Ginny could move towards him a flash of light illuminated his face and he fell to the ground in a heap.

* * *

_You are in my blood like holy wine_

_You taste so bitter and so sweet_

_I could drink a case of you, darling_

_And I would still be on my feet_

* * *

St. Mungo's was a warm refuge from the blistering cold and snow of London's busy streets when Ginny stepped inside from the sidewalk.

The lobby was not terribly crowded and she made her way automatically to the Welcome Witch.

"Back again today, Miss Weasley?" The blonde woman asked politely, the hint of a knowing smile on her face.

Ginny merely nodded distractedly and the witch motioned for her to proceed.

It had been nearly two weeks since the foiled attack on Hogsmeade and Ginny knew the path to his room well by now.

His ward was quiet when she entered, private of course, and her boots echoed loudly on the polished tile floor. The air in that place seemed stale, and it seemed to press down on her as it did whenever she visited.

The curtains were drawn around his bed as she approached and Ginny hesitated when she heard a female voice from behind them.

Suddenly the curtains were drawn back and Ginny was relieved to see Draco's Healer step from behind them.

"Any change?" Ginny asked, her voice cracking from lack of use.

"Nothing notable, Miss Weasley," the elderly woman answered. "But I'm sure he can sense our presence. Let me know if you need anything."

Ginny nodded and watched as the woman exited the ward. She took a deep breath, inhaling the musty-smelling air, before turning to seat herself in Draco's bedside chair.

Whatever curse had struck him that day in Hogsmeade had left him in a coma.

The Healers had classified the actual spell damage minor and expected him to wake any time now, explaining that the coma was his body's way of suspending regular operations in order to focus more directly on healing.

Of course, that had been more than two weeks ago and things were beginning to look desperate. Ginny had done her homework and discovered that there were cases - albeit very rare cases - in which the wizard suffering from the coma _never_ woke up. She tried very diligently to push this information to the back of her mind.

Ginny had been by his side nearly every day he had been in the hospital, choosing to spend her time before and after work talking to him. The healers encouraged it, although Ginny was quite unsure of whether or not he could even hear her, let alone understand what she was babbling about.

She took his hand then and pulled it closer, enclosing it in both of her own.

"Good evening, Draco," she whispered. "I trust you've had a most eventful day. Me? Well, my day was alright, I suppose. Gringotts was rather annoying today. People seem to lose their head this time of year and wizards are no exception, no matter what you believe. Just because Christmas is what, two weeks away, people somehow get the impression they're supposed to empty their entire vault in order to have a happy holiday. It's silly really."

She paused and studied his face, trying to ignore the sinking of her heart when she noticed how stiff his features looked. His skin was so pale and smooth and motionless he really did seem to be made of porcelain these days.

"Everyone keeps asking me what I want for Christmas," she mumbled, her voice sounding more and more desperate as she continued. "Just today I had to fight off two owls from my mum. But you know what? You can't buy what I want for Christmas this year. Oh, no. And I know that's a difficult concept for you to grasp, seeing as how you're used to buying everything your teensy little heart desires. No, what I want this year is simple."

She paused, swallowing hard and trying to slow the hammering of her heart.

"I just need you to open your eyes. Move your pinkie finger. Wiggle a toe. Just," here she paused to fight the tears that were threatening to spill down her face, "just give me some sort of sign so that I know you're going to be alright. I mean, I know you're going to be fine, it's just, sometimes I need some reassuring…I need you to come back to me."

She stopped talking and listened hard for any sound of movement.

"Alright, well, you've still got two weeks until Christmas. I know how you like to keep me guessing, even though you know the suspense nearly kills me."

She leaned forward then, moving his hand and resting her head on the bed so that her lips were kissing his hand and she was talking into his palm. It was warm and soft.

"I talked to Harry a few days ago. I've been meaning to tell you. He explained basically everything to me, except the parts you made him swear to keep secret with that dammed unbreakable vow. Hermione filled me in on those parts. She's much more clever than you realize, Draco, I swear."

Had she not chosen that moment to take a deep breath, she might have noticed the twitch in his foot.

"Harry told me how you came to him after Voldemort was defeated. Told me how you were so sorry for all the things you'd done. How you wanted to join the Order because you'd got wind some of the remaining Death Eater's were plotting revenge and this time you knew where your loyalties lay. How he had testified in your defense after the war. Harry told me how upset you were that night when you thought I had been in France during the attacks." Her voice was barely above a whisper now and her tears were pooling silently in his palm.

"He told me your only concern in all this was to keep me safe and do what was right. And Draco, I'm still hurt that you felt you couldn't trust me with all this information, but I understand how hard it must have been and I can forgive you. I just wish you would wake up so I could tell you all this. Because Draco, you fool, I still love you," she breathed, and it was as she exhaled that she heard another faint noise like the release of a deep breath.

She jerked up at once and noticed that Draco's mouth had moved. She let go of his hand to lean closer to his face and caress his cheek. She felt his jaw muscles tighten beneath her fingers and could not help it when her heart began to race.

"Ginny…"

The voice was barely more than a breath, but there it was, clear and wonderful. She pulled back and saw that the fingers of the hand she had been holding were flexing slowly.

"Oh Draco, oh you're doing so well, I'm so proud of you," she breathed, rubbing her hand down his arm. "Please come back to me."

He breathed her name again, and suddenly she was overwhelmed with emotion. She could not breathe properly. She was terrified she would not be able to say the things she had told him already if he were awake and looking at her. She was afraid, suddenly, that he would not forgive her for the things she had believed about him. She could not cope with all that again, could not have him back, just to lose his completely all over again. She had to get out.

She felt as though she were ripping her own heart out all over again, but as she watched his eyes twitch as if he were dreaming, she placed a kiss on his temple and let his hand fall gently to the bed.

She signaled the nearest healer that Draco was waking and had stepped back out onto the snowy streets of London before she could talk herself out of it.

* * *

_I remember that time you told me, you said,_

_"Love is touching souls,"_

_Surely you touched mine_

_'Cause part of you pours out of me_

_In these lines from time to time_

* * *

It was a week before Christmas and he was resting on the settee in the main parlor, watching his mother order the house elves about decorating the manor.

He had been at home since reawakening, attempting to recover, but it was hard when every time he managed to fall asleep, his dreams were plagued with images of red hair and warm, loving brown eyes.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind, telling himself for the thousandth time that all those memories of her coming to him when he had been in the coma was just his mind playing tricks on him.

The things she had said, the things she had told him she knew, were impossible; when he had seen her last she had been about to curse him. He had ruined everything with her. It would be easier to change the past than to fix things with her, he was certain.

"Didn't we have this tree topper last year, love?" His mother's voice floated in through his musings and he lifted his eyes lazily to her. She was holding an angel tree topper but he couldn't make out its finer details from the distance.

"Yes, it's dreadful," he replied without enthusiasm. "Send the elf out for a new one."

"You know, I have a few last minute things to pick up myself, actually," she replied. Her voice could not contain the joy she obviously felt at having her beloved son healthy and returned to her. "Would you be alright on your own for an hour or so? I'll have the elves look after you closely."

"Of course, mother," he replied, managing to grin in her direction.

She smiled broadly and tossed the old tree topper into a box on her way from the room.

Once she was gone, Draco stood and stretched. He had been forced to sit an awful lot lately, his mother fussing constantly that he take things incredibly easy until everyone was certain he was back to full strength.

He managed to climb his way through the many boxes of Christmas decorations towards the window. He glanced outside and watched as a thick snow carpeted the countryside. The quiet of the room since his mother's departure made it all too easy for him to let his thoughts drift, so he pulled his wand from a trouser pocket and flicked it towards the wireless in the corner.

The device came to life at once and Draco stood listening for several minutes before the song finished and something the announcer said caught his attention.

"_Oh, my poor heart, where has it gone?_

_It's left me for a spell…" _

Celestina Warbeck. Why did that name sound so familiar? The song had been a slow, depressingly sort of jazzy number that definitely did not seem like his style. _Celestina Warbeck…._

And then it hit him.

A summer night. Champagne and strawberries. Peppery food and dancing barefoot in the grass. Before he knew what was happening it was all rushing back, blinding him with it's clarity and intensity. The night she took him to see the Weird Sisters.

The night he fell in love with Ginny Weasley.

He grabbed the wireless then and slammed it into the wall before leaning against the window. He took a few deep breaths, letting the coolness of the glass cool him. After several long minutes he noticed something glittering from the corner of his eye. He turned his head and focused on the old angel tree topper his mother had tossed aside.

It was an angel with fiery red hair.

* * *

_Oh, you're in my blood like holy wine_

_You taste so bitter and so sweet_

_Oh I could drink a case of you, darling_

_Still be on my feet_

_I would still be on my feet_

* * *

Ginny wrapped her cloak tighter around her frame as she pushed through the crowds in Diagon Alley.

She was grumbling incoherently to herself, upset that she had been asked to work late and upset that her mother had written asking her to pick up a few things before dinner on Sunday. The combination of the two things meant she was stuck doing shopping during one of Diagon Alley's busiest shopping weeks of the year.

She was in such a foul mood she neglected to notice the seasonal beauty of the alley. Although it was dark, the alley was glowing with fairy lights and other holiday decorations. Every store window was decorated with holly and lights. Carolers were singing from just outside the Leaky Cauldron and the entire alley seemed to be near bursting with laughing shoppers.

She shook her hood up around her head as she stepped from a shop, an angry glint in her eyes. She hadn't meant to be so snippy with the man at Flourish and Blotts, but he had had such a light blond shade of hair, and all else considering, he should be glad she hadn't hexed him.

She tucked the packages tightly under her arm and leaned into the wind, squinting against the snow and wishing she were tucked warmly in her bed.

The snow was gathering on the streets, and instead of enjoying its fluffy loveliness, she was grumbling to herself that her boots were wet and would take days to dry properly.

She had been walking and leaving forward to dust snow from the bottom of her robes when she turned the corner headed towards her last stop, Quality Quidditch Supplies and ran smack into another person. Both were knocked backwards, but only the other person dropped any packages.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ginny said, bending to help the person pick up the packages before they were trampled by the crowd.

"It's quite alright."

The tone of the voice clearly meant the person was a woman, and when both straightened, Ginny drew in a sharp breath.

She was looking into the face of Draco Malfoy's mother; there was no doubt about it.

It was shocking how much mother and son looked alike and Ginny stared for a full stunned moment until the other woman smiled politely.

"I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I'm Narcissa Malfoy and I would extend my hand, but under the circumstances you'll have to forgive me," she said, gesturing to the many packages now filling her arms.

"It's lovely to meet you," Ginny replied. "I'm Gin-"

"I know who you are," Narcissa said, her eyes studying Ginny intensely in a way that made it clear this was where Draco had learned that particular maneuver.

Ginny simply looked at her questioningly.

"Go to him," Narcissa stated simply, as if it made all the sense in the world.

"Excuse me?"

"He loves you." She said it as if it were irrefutable fact.

"He, you ca- can't know that," Ginny stuttered, shaken by the woman's brazenness.

"I know my son well enough to know that he loves you. If you love him, and I strongly suspect that you do, you will not allow him, or yourself, to suffer anymore. Go to him. Tell him all the things you told him while he was sleeping-"

Ginny opened her mouth to question how Narcissa could possibly know what Ginny had told him but stopped when Narcissa continued.

"-yes, I know much of what you told him because he relives it every time he closes his eyes to sleep. Go to him. Tell him you love him."

Ginny simply stood rooted to the spot, opening and closing her mouth and before she had formed a logical response to such a direct suggestion, Narcissa had grinned at her and disappeared around the corner.

Shoppers kept bustling by, occasionally bumping her shoulder or nudging a package, but Ginny stood in the middle of the sidewalk, the snow and wind swirling around her, wondering if she should take the advice of Narcissa Malfoy.

* * *

_I met a woman_

_She had a mouth like yours_

_She knew your life_

_She knew your devils and your deeds_

_And she said,_

_"Go to him, stay with him if you can_

_But be prepared to bleed."_

_Oh but you are in my blood_

_You're my holy wine_

_You're so bitter, bitter and so sweet_

_Oh, I could drink a case of you, darling_

_Still I'd be on my feet_

_I would still be on my feet._

* * *

**A/N: So how do you think this is all going to end? Do I seem like a "happily-ever-after" author? And was it worth all the waiting and writing and plotting? Either way, thanks for sticking with me. There's just one chapter left and the epilogue. I'll try to post those within a day or two or each other.**

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	19. Play it Slowly

**Chapter 19 – Play it Slowly**

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**A/N: I know this time schedule is all messed up. But I've had this planned out for ages it's just life that got in the way. I hope this is the chapter you guys have been waiting for and I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but there were certain things we had to get through to get to this point. **

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy and leave lots of reviews!**

**This chapters song "All I Ever Get for Christmas Is Blue" – Over the Rhine (who happen to have a SPECTACULAR holiday CD called "Snow Angels." You should check it out when it gets closer to that time of year.)**

* * *

_Strings of lights above the pane_

_Curtains drawn and a glass of red_

_All I ever get for Christmas is blue_

It was Christmas evening.

* * *

Ginny was sitting in the Burrow, curled up in an overstuffed armchair by the fire, nursing her third glass of wine since dinner.

The family was gathered in the living room listening to the traditional Celestina Warbeck Christmas evening broadcast.

Molly was knitting. Arthur was sitting beside his wife attempting to read, although Ginny had noticed his eyes had not moved from the same spot for nearly ten minutes and were beginning to droop.

Her brothers and their respective families were gathered about as well, but most of the younger children had fallen asleep, casting the room into an almost eerie silence.

It had been the usual eventful Christmas Day. She had spent the previous night in her old room and woken to dozens of presents at the foot of her bed. During the afternoon she had gotten swept up helping with the cooking and stopping frequently to coo and coddle over her various nieces and nephews.

But now the events of the day were nearly finished and everyone had slowed down enough so that Ginny was finding it increasingly difficult not to think of him. It was especially hard not to be reminded of him with that horrid music floating from the Wireless.

Bill leaned over to her suddenly, pointing out that their father had almost completely drifted off to sleep. Ginny snuck at look in her parents' direction and stifled a laugh.

Arthur had indeed fallen asleep and his head was gently lolling closer and closer to the book he had covertly rested on his chest.

"Always the same, eh Gin?" Bill whispered before winking and settling himself back in his chair, his youngest child asleep on his lap.

Ginny nodded at him, a smile still on her lips, before recognizing that a new song had started up from the wireless.

She recognized it at once.

_A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love._

Oh no, she thought to herself, there was no way she was going to sit there and willingly subject herself to that.

She leaned forward, clearing her throat loudly and smiling as she saw her father jerk awake.

"I think it's about time I head home," she announced, taking the last sip of wine and setting the empty glass on the table in front of her.

"Oh, but Ginny dear, the broadcast isn't even over," her mother pleaded, putting her knitting aside and standing.

"I know, mum, but I haven't been to the apartment in a few days. It's a complete wreck and you know how Hermione's been asking me to have the New Years get-together at my place," she explained, congratulating herself on even remembering Hermione's remark about New Years.

"Well, I suppose it's late enough," Molly said slowly, glancing around the room and noticing most everyone else was asleep or darn close to it.

"Happy Christmas, mum," Ginny said, stepping over to Molly and allowing herself to be pulled into a crushing hug. "Thanks for everything."

"Happy Christmas, dear," Molly said. "And go by Floo, you've had too much wine to Apparate safely."

"Yes, mum," Ginny replied, smiling at her mother's constant parenting.

She stepped up to the fire and grabbed a fistful of Floo Powder, itching to get away from the suffocating memories the music was stirring within her.

She tossed the powder into the flames and spoke the address of her apartment before stepping into the warmth of the fire and disappearing in a swirl of color.

* * *

_Saxophone on the radio  
Recorded 40 years ago  
All I ever get for Christmas is blue_

* * *

She hadn't really been stretching the truth too much when she had told her mother her apartment was a wreck.

She lit a fire after she tumbled out of the fireplace and sighed as the flames illuminated the mess she had left before going to the Burrow for Christmas.

Wrapping paper and package adornments were strew throughout the living room, leaving the tree in the corner barely visible. She waved her wand in the direction of the tree and smiled as the lights glowed to life.

She started moving about the room, waving her wand at the mess and dreading the mound of dishes she knew were waiting for her in the kitchen.

It was little more than an hour later she found herself sinking down onto the living room sofa. The place looked presentable again and she sighed with relief. She flicked her wand towards her own wireless and tapped her foot to the rhythm that she did not recognize at first. She was mid-way through singing the chorus when she realized what the song was.

"Are you kidding me?" she growled, sitting up and reaching over to turn the wireless off. "Is that the only artist you prats expect people to listen to at Christmas?"

She stood, stretching a little, and glanced at the clock over the mantle. It was half past nine and she was tired, but not yet sleepy enough for bed. She had already cleaned, put away her gifts and had another glass of wine. A good, brisk walk in the cold air was what she needed now.

She headed towards her bedroom to change, unable to stop the happy idea that she would walk around Muggle London for a bit and look at all the pretty Christmas lights decorating the buildings and houses.

She changed into a thick grey turtleneck sweater, tight black jeans and her usual black dragon-hide boots. She was about to pull her regular traveling cloak about her when she remembered that she still had the much thicker cloak she had worn while in Russia. She remembered its warm fur lining and knew at once that it would be much more suitable for her nighttime stroll.

She stepped inside her closet and begun feeling for the cloak in the back corners where she suspected it might be hanging. Her fingers closed around the soft material and she pulled it off the hanger towards her. On the way out, the long garment sent several other items to the floor. She tossed the cloak on the bed before bending to pick up the clothes that had fallen.

She picked up a dress and two pairs of jeans and hung them back on the rack. She had taken a few steps back out of the closet, intent on getting outside, when she felt something soft under her foot.

She stooped to pick up the ball of cloth and felt her throat tighten. She glanced back at the items she had just returned to the closet and noticed at once that the dress was a pale lavender sundress.

His socks must have fallen from the dress when she had pulled the thick cloak from the back of the closet.

She studied the socks, noticed how the edges were a little darker from when she had almost burned them.

Then without any further contemplation, she grabbed the cloak from her bed, flung it around her shoulders and set off, tucking the socks in her pocket.

It was time they were returned.

* * *

_When you play my song  
Play it slowly  
Play it like I'm sad and lonely_

* * *

"Draco darling, hasn't today been wonderful?" Narcissa asked, smiling cheerily at her son.

"Yes, mother," Draco replied, taking a sip of his wine and hoping his smile appeared genuine. "It has been a rather Happy Christmas, hasn't it?"

Narcissa merely grinned and nodded.

They were having a late supper, having spent a lazy day around the manor, opening gifts and watching the snow pile up outside.

Draco watched as his mother took a petite bite of Christmas pudding, wondering if she missed her husband as much as he missed Ginny.

He had been drowning in memories all day, even though he and Ginny had never spent a significant holiday together. It was the mere idea of her that affected him so much during a time of such love and giving and kindness. Because wasn't it that sort of thing that had made him fall in love with her in the first place? Her fire, her passion, her kindness, her –

"Draco, are you feeling alright? You look a bit pale," Narcissa spoke up from her side of the table.

"Yes, I'm quite alright," he replied, moving to take another sip of wine just so that he might have something to occupy his hands.

"You haven't touched your Christmas pudding."

"I believe I had my fill of sugar this afternoon when you gave me that box of sweets from Belgium," he smiled at her and she seemed comforted.

"I can stay home this evening, if you like," she said, signaling to the waiting house elf that she was finished and her plate should be cleared.

"I'll be fine," he answered, watching as his plate was taken away as well. "Go and visit your cousin."

"Are you certain? I would hate to abandon you on Christmas. Won't you come along with me?" she asked, standing from the table and moving to meet Draco by the door leading into the parlor.

"Mother, for the last time, I'm quite old enough to be allowed to stay home alone," he said, grinning in a way that reminded her of his younger years. As if to give her further reassurance he embraced her momentarily before pulling back to smile at her. "Have your fun. I'm going to relax in the parlor and enjoy the evening."

Narcissa nodded and watched with a heavy heart as Draco disappeared into the parlor. He could smile a hundred times, but she would not be able to miss the haunted look in his eyes behind the smile. She wondered if he would ever be the same, but then stopped herself. Whatever had happened over the summer, Ginny had stirred something within him, and even now Narcissa knew that her son was quite different than he had been even a year ago.

He seemed kinder, maybe, or just a bit softer around the edges. Whatever it was, she knew that somehow he would heal.

And somehow he would be a better man because he had known a woman who had, so obviously and so selflessly, loved him.

Narcissa made her way to the foyer, stopping along to pick up a gift for her cousin. She was still thinking about her son, about how things were going to turn out, as she fastened her traveling cloak about her. She moved to the window impulsively, wanting to check on the snowfall, when she noticed the dark figure approaching the house.

Narcissa leaned closer to the window, breathing slowly so that she would not fog the window. She was squinting her eyes as she looked out into the darkness, wondering who could be calling at this hour, when the moon moved from behind a dark cloud and illuminated the person.

Narcissa stood back the moment she recognized the red hair on the head of the person trudging up the drive and through the snow.

* * *

_Deep into the night_

_We'll go stealing_

_Underneath a starry ceiling_

_Revealing_

* * *

Narcissa listened closely and when she heard Draco moving about in parlor, she called for a house elf and instructed him to answer the door before Ginny could knock and alert Draco.

"Send her in the parlor and tell her you're going to fetch Draco," Narcissa said, her smile evidence of the cleverness she felt at her plan.

"But ma'am," the house elf squeaked, "Master Draco is already in the parlor."

"Precisely," Narcissa breathed, a satisfied smile upon her lips.

She glanced out the window and saw that Ginny was standing under the shelter by the front door stamping the snow from her boots. Narcissa crossed her fingers and turned on her heel, disappearing with a tiny _pop._

* * *

_Maybe you can solve my myster_y...

* * *

Ginny stood outside the great door, breathing slowly and watched as the moonlight reflected off the great silver doorknocker, twisted in the form of a serpent, of course.

Lights were twinkling behind the curtained windows on each side of the door and Ginny resisted the urge to peek inside. Instead, she pulled her ungloved hand from the warm depths of her cloak and grasped the frozen serpent. She shivered as she let it fall with a bang.

Even as the noise echoed in the silence, the door was pulled open and a tiny house elf greeted her.

"Good evening, miss," the elf said, bowing slightly. "May I help you?"

"I – I…" Ginny had lost her voice now that the familiar scents of Draco's house were swirling from the open door. "I'm Ginny Weasley. I'm here to see Dra – Malfoy. Mister Malfoy." The creature grinned in an odd sort of way, if you could even call that grinning.

"But please don't wake him if he's already retired for the evening," Ginny added as an afterthought.

"Oh no, Master Malfoy is still awake. Please come in."

The house elf opened the door wider and took several steps back to make room for Ginny to come in from the swirling snow.

"May I take your cloak?"

The elf was reaching upwards for the garment, but Ginny took a step away.

"Oh, no thank you. I won't be staying long. I just need to return something to Mafoy."

"Then I shall go and fetch Master Draco," the elf replied. "Please, if you don't mind, wait for him in the parlor."

The elf indicated a door to Ginny's right and did not make a motion to leave until Ginny turned and headed for the door. She glanced back towards the house elf once, but it had already disappeared. She reached for the cool metal of the doorknob and pushed it open.

* * *

_Wrap me in your arms and whisper  
You miss me_

* * *

Draco was relaxing by the fire when he heard the front door open.

He inclined his head when he realized the house elf was speaking to someone, but he could not make out what the voices were saying. He had just gotten to his feet when the door to the parlor burst open and his heart stopped.

He blinked and took deep breaths in quick succession, thinking at once that his mind was playing awful, cruel tricks on him. But then he heard her sharp intake of breathe, saw her cheeks grow pink and knew without doubt that Ginny Weasley was standing in his home.

He was trying to determine if he could trust his voice enough to speak when he heard her clear her throat.

"Malfoy," she stated and her voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

He merely nodded at her, willing his body not to take an involuntary step towards her. He had not been this close to her in such a long time. The way her fire red hair was falling in her face made his hands itch to touch her.

She opened her mouth to speak, then decided against it and closed her mouth, swallowing heavily. He studied her face then, as her eyes drifted shut and she took a deep breath. Her face looked strained and, if it were possible, she looked as pale as him, which only made the dark circles under her eyes stand out more. He realized with a start that she must not be sleeping any more than he was. He wondered vaguely if it was for the same reasons, then stopped himself, suddenly irritated and hurting from that line of thinking.

"Is there a reason you're here, or were you hoping simply to ruin my holiday further?" The spiteful words spewed from his lips and he felt powerless to change the snide tone of his voice.

He knew his expression had changed from genuine surprise to anger, it was evident by the stung look on her face as well, but he did not care. How dare she have the audacity to show up on his doorstep, uninvited? How dare she still be capable of causing him such pain simply from the sight of her?

She took a step towards him, reaching a hand into her pocket. He glanced up into her eyes and regretted it instantly. There shining back at him was all the things he had been drowning in these past few weeks.

"I just came here to return something of yours I just realized I still had," she said, her cracking voice betraying the impassivity she wore on her face.

"What else could I possibly want from you?" He spat the words, regretting them with each syllable. But he did not know how else to be when all he wanted was to gather her in his arms and never, ever let go.

"Nothing worthwhile," she muttered, almost to herself.

She pulled her hand from an inside pocket of her cloak and he thought for an instant that she was about to pull her wand out and curse him.

"But I found these in my closet earlier this evening and thought they should be returned. They're rightfully yours."

She held her hand out and it took him several long moments to realize that she was grasping a pair of plain black socks.

"What is that?" he asked, moving close enough to better see the socks, but not quite touching her outstretched hand.

"Your socks, from the concert," she explained, her throat constricting on the last word.

He took the socks from her, realizing immediately that they were indeed his and remembering at once how she had come to be in possession of them. His eyes met hers and the sight of them, shining with tears, made his chest tighten considerably.

They gazed at each other then, and Draco thought of a hundred things he wanted to say to her, but could not bring himself to open his mouth and form actual words. Ginny stood there, eyes shining, for quite a while before finally taking a deep, shuddering breath and stepping back ever so slightly.

"Well, I just thought you should have your things back," she whispered, looking up at him and glancing away quickly. "I guess I should be going."

She turned then, slowly and deliberately, and still he could not bring himself to respond.

She was almost to the door when he finally found his voice.

"Was that a dream?" he asked.

In the silence before she answered he felt dizzy dread.

She stopped, her small body framed in the doorway, but did not turn to look back at him.

"What?" she asked, her back to him.

Her voice was quiet and guarded, but he thought she knew exactly what he had been referring to.

"Was that real? All those things I heard someone saying, in your voice, when I was asleep. Was that a dream?" His voice was low and raspy and he knew she would be able to hear the desperation in it.

"When you were at St. Mungo's?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yes. Was it real?"

His heart was beating madly in his chest and he could not remember a time when so much was hanging on the answer to one simple question.

"Yes."

She turned around then, her eyes seeking his.

"Was is true?" he breathed.

"Every word."

He wasn't aware of moving and later on he would not be able to recall what happened to the socks or how he managed to gather her in his arms so quickly.

He would, however, never forget the feel of her lips on his, after so much time apart. Or the way she seemed to melt into him. He would always remember the feel of her small hands tangling in his hair and the way her lips parted and their tongues danced. Years later, he would be able to recall with perfect clarity the smell of her hair and the temperature of her tears as he whispered "I love you," against her cheek.

* * *

_Let them ring the bells_

_They won't miss us_

_I'll be drinking down your kisses_

* * *

**A/N: You should have realized before now that I'm so totally a "happily-ever-after" person. I truly hope you have enjoyed the story; I know I have rather enjoyed sharing it with you. Thanks so much for the lovely reviews and general interest in my silly rambling. I never expected so many people to find my writing interesting and I'm very flattered. Please, if you have any great ideas or suggestions for another story, let me know. I've no burning plot ideas at the moment and I'm sure I'll find it odd not to have some form of writing in progress. Anyway, don't forget to read the epilogue and leave me a nice, long review!**

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	20. Epilogue You Hold Me Just the Same Way

**Chapter 20 – You Hold Me Just the Same Way – Epilogue**

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**A/N:**

**So this is it. It's the end. I hope you like how it all ends. I hope you all leave a review. And if you have any good plot ideas for something new, don't forget to let me know. I'll be bored in a few weeks, I'm sure. **

**Anyway, it's been a lovely ride. And it's taken almost a year to complete, but I do hope you've enjoyed it. Please, please, please leave a review and let me know your honest opinion.**

* * *

_We've been careful, we've been good  
Doing most of the things we should  
But the picture is much bigger than we knew_

* * *

"Good grief woman, could you possibly have picked a dress with more buttons?"

Ginny giggled as she listened to his vexations, knowing by the playful tone of his voice that he was enjoying every moment of undoing the crisp white buttons of her dress; she could tell by the unhurried movement of his hands and the way he was letting his fingers linger across each exposed inch of her warm skin.

The room was warm despite the crispness of the fall air outside.

The only light was coming from the crackling flames of the fireplace and the air was rich with the smell of autumn leaves and pumpkin.

Ginny leaned her head down, letting the soft curls of her long hair fall over her face. She sighed loudly as the man behind her undid a button at the top of her waist and ran his hand back up the naked skin of her back.

His hot breath on her neck made her stomach clench.

"Draco, if you don't get a move on, I'll have to vanish the blasted dress, and you know how much I don't want to do that," Ginny demanded, straightening her back so she was not pressed so tightly against him.

"I'm almost finished, love," he replied distractedly, and in one swift movement he had undone the last of the buttons and pushed the dress to her thighs.

She turned around just in time to press her lips to his and he lifted her from the crumple of her white dress, never breaking contact as he carried her to the bed.

"In a hurry all of a sudden?" she asked, smiling against his mouth and at the same time pealing his black dress robes from his body.

"Always," he replied, dipping his head to her breast and successfully preventing any more talking for the time being.

* * *

_I'd rather feel your heat  
_

_On a wicked winter day_

_Than watch a holiday parade_

_With dancers and balloons_

* * *

It was quite some time later before Ginny finally had a moment to owl her parents to let them know they had arrived safely in France.

She had gotten up to move to the writing desk in the corner of the room, but after loud protests from Draco found it was much easier to transfer the parchment and quill to the bed.

She was sitting up, leaning against a stack of pillows and the headboard of the bed.

Draco's arm was draped across her shoulders and he was reading the back of the day's newspaper.

She penned a quick letter to her mum and signed her name on the bottom of the letter, pausing to stare at it for a moment. It would certainly take some getting used to, but, she smiled softly to herself, she would adjust.

She had just tied the letter to the waiting owls' leg when she realized Draco was idly twirling a red tendril of her hair around his finger.

She remembered something then, an image she had not thought of in over a year, but suddenly it was shining brightly in her minds eye.

_Her mother was knitting one of the famous Weasley sweaters and her father was still reading; his free arm draped nonchalantly across Molly's shoulders. Ginny smiled when she saw he was absently twirling a red tendril of his wife's hair around his finger._

Ginny could not hide the smile from her face as she sat quietly, enjoying the gentle touch of her husband.

She felt her heart swell with happiness and knew instantly and with complete certainty that things would be more than fine. Somehow, she had ended up with exactly what she needed and without even realizing it was what she wanted.

The rustling of Draco moving the newspaper to the bedside table caught her attention and she turned to him.

"Finished with your letter?" he asked, moving his arm and pulling her tightly to his side.

"Yes," she replied, still smiling widely.

"What're you grinning so madly about?" he asked, leaning forward to place a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"You," she breathed. "I love you."

"I love you too, Ginny," he answered, pressing his lips to hers for a moment. "I love you."

She let his words wash over her, let them settle in every crevice of her mind, let them comfort and soothe her, before settling down into his warm arms.

* * *

_You hold me just the same way_

_And we're gonna pull through._

_Anything._

* * *

**A/N: I hope you didn't find it to sappy. I hope you liked it and that it made you smile. Leave me a review! With much love and gratitude - dumbledorefan07.**

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